


Innamoramento

by ignite



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, I posted this story months ago on my tumblr, M/M, Mage AU, battles, but I wanted to make it better and prettier, cw : slavery, king AU, so here I go, this is a rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignite/pseuds/ignite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>from <a href="http://milkteaghost.tumblr.com/post/67789583829/ah-ot6-prompt-king-au-where-ryan-isnt-a-king">this prompt</a>  by Milkteaghost.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Twenty-five years after Edgar took a throne that wasn’t his, a slave is waiting for the world to change.</p>
<p>------</p>
<p>Or, the one where Ryan is an enslaved Mage, and everyone else is a king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I already posted this story on Tumblr but I've been wanting to re-write it for quite a while. Make it a better story ,with hopefully better writing and slightly tighter plot. So... here I go.
> 
> Obviously it's already finished, I'm just posting the chapters as I finish rewriting them. So it should be quick.

From the confines of a dark cell, a man was watching the world change.

Eyes closed, fingertips touching each other, he was sitting still on the floor. The stones underneath him were so cold, the thin clothes on his back no match for the humidity of the place.

The thick metal bracelets around his wrists, linked together by a strong metal chain slowly rusting away, rattled softly as he pressed his palms together. The skin of his wrists was raw, chafed until it burnt and burst open, dried rivulets of blood decorating his naked arms.

He was a prisoner, a slave, his body stuck behind the heavy iron bars. But his mind was miles away. It was wandering far away from the dungeon, far away from the castle, and a smile was slowly stretching the man's lips.

His mind had travelled over fields and through forests, carried by the wind like a leaf. It went until it found a small village where five men were resting, feeding their horses, sharpening their weapons.

Only five men against the world, ready for change.

"Haywood!"

The man startled as his wandering mind snapped back into his skull like a boulder hitting him on the side of the head. He opened hazy eyes, and through a budding headache he saw the prison guard looking at him from the other side of the cell.

"The King wants to see you. You better be nice to him today or you’re good to spend another night in here. I don’t want you here, slave."

"I know," said Ryan. His voice was hoarse, tongue swollen from lack of water, panting breaths escaping his chest. His little mind trick had cost him all his energy, he felt empty. "You remind me of that fact every time you see me. I don’t particularly enjoy your company either."

"Really? Could have fooled me. It’s your third fucking night in this cell this month, slave. You better be on your best behavior because the next time you’re sent here, I’ll throw you out the window." The guard narrowed his beady eyes. "You have a bad aura, boy."

Ryan didn't bother answering. The guard opened the door.

The slave stood on unsteady feet, joints aching with the cold and muscles shaking with exhaustion, and slowly walked out of the cell.

Two days, he thought. Two days, and everything would change. For better or for worse.

**********

Five men against the world. Who would have thought they’d win?

Nobody.

Which was why they were only five, after all. Nobody had rallied to their cause, though everyone was very much in favor of said cause.

Now as the sun rose over the Kingdom, the king was dead and the gates to the castle had been thrown open. The people of the Kingdom of Abuter were pouring in ; armed with pitchforks and shovels they were taking care of the last remaining soldiers from Edgar’s personal guard. Peasants kept in poverty for years who were now climbing the walls and shouting victory.

The throne room was the only place were all activity had ceased. Blood trickled down from the walls, feet squeaked with it. Corpses had been pushed out through the door and windows. The five men were looking at the throne, a large chair painted with gold. The lush red cushion sitting on it was redder than it should.

Geoff prodded it with the tip of his sword and it made a horrible squelching sound, blood oozing out of it.

"Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to kill Edgar while he was still sitting on the throne. I liked that cushion."

"We could wash it," said Gavin as he walked up to Geoff. The lad had been going around the room getting his arrows back and wiping blood -and other things- off the tips.

"Yeah. I don’t think you could ever get all that blood out of it."

"Man, it’s disgusting," said Jack. "Stop fucking touching it, Geoff…"

"You just killed about a hundred people Jack, maybe it’s time you stopped being so squeamish around blood."

"I’m not squeamish. I’m sensible."

"Your mom’s sensible," piped in Ray for absolutely no other reason than to make himself laugh.

"Huh… Excuse me…" said a new voice.

The five men turned around as one.

They looked at the hunched silhouette of a man dressed in frilly clothes which had once been pristine white. Now they were stained, torn in places, and the bottom of his flowing pants was soaking up the blood on the floor. His right cheekbone and eyebrow were cut open, and his eye was already turning a painful shade of purple.

Jack ran to him. "Oh dear, I forgot about you. What did you say your name was, again?"

"Ryan…"

"Ryan. Are you all right? We told you to hide until it was over…"

"He helped me," said Michael. "One of Edgar’s guards was trying to attack me from behind, Ryan half-strangled him with his chains. He saved me. Thank you."

"It’s all right," said Ryan flatly. "I’m fine. I just… what have you done with the King?"

"Threw his body out of the window," said Ray, gloating.

"We have the key," said Geoff quickly as he saw the man’s face fall in disappointment. "I remembered what you told us, dude, I got the key off his miserable body before it was tossed out. I gave it to Gavin… Gav?"

"Yes, yes, just a minute…"

Gavin Free had pockets. Lots of pockets. On his pants, cloak, hood, inside his shirt, outside his shirt. He argued it was efficient, but he lost everything you gave him since he could never remember which pocket he put it in. The others argued he was just an idiot.

"You could have put it inside your nose," said Michael, "at least you’d know where it is."

"Shut up…" moaned Gavin. "I have it… Is it in my boots?" he mumbled to himself, crouching to check.

"Why do you put things in your boots?" asked Ryan, confusion clear on his haggard face.

"That’s the big question, isn’t it," sighed Geoff.

"Got it!!"

Gavin stood triumphantly, a thick, rusty key in hands. He hopped over to Ryan, brandishing it proudly.

"I got it. I’ll get you out of those stupid shackles."

With a simple turn of the key, the bracelets fell off Ryan’s wrists. They hit the floor with a loud ‘clang’. A strange shimmer went through the room, like the air itself had been disturbed by something. Geoff shivered.

Slowly, as if fearing they would break if he was too fast, Ryan brought his abused wrists close to his chest and closed his eyes. He took a deep, shaking breath. Then his legs folded under him.

Jack and Gavin immediately lunged to hold him up.

"Woah, hey!!" shouted Gavin. "Don’t pass out on me!"

Ryan’s eyes were hazy as he blinked at the archer.

"I’m sorry. I haven’t been out of those shackles for… ten years…"

"Holy crap," mumbled Ray.

Jack helped the poor dude sit down on a mostly-clean patch of floor.

"Are you going to be all right?" asked Geoff.

"Yes. I just need a moment, I think…"

He looked quite pitiful, slouching like this in the middle of the big throne room. Geoff almost wanted to offer him a hug. He looked like the weight of his shackles had been holding him down and now they were off him he didn’t know how to tether himself to the rest of the world.

"What are you going to do, now?" Ryan asked softly.

"Well. Take back what’s mine by birth," said Geoff, "and then split the crown in five."

"You want to rule together?" asked Ryan, his voice cracking. "All five of you?"

"Why not?" said Michael. "We work better as a unit."

Ryan nodded slowly, taking this in. He wasn’t too thin or too small like a lot of slaves were, but he definitely looked lost and gaunt. His eyebrows were slightly frowned over his clear blue eyes as if something was perpetually bothering him. But he didn't look shocked by the announcement. Geoff wondered if anything could shock a slave. Surely these people had seen enough cruelty to be apathetic to everything in the world.

"You’re free, by the way," said Geoff, a bit angry at himself for not having said that sooner. "My first decree as a king : slavery’s over. You’re a free man."

Ryan nodded. “Thank you, Sire.”

"And you can call me Geoff. After all we’ve only managed to get that far thanks to you and your secret passages, it’s only fair you get to be friendly with us. How the hell did you even know about us? How did you know we were going to attack, or even where we would try to break through the wall? You never told us."

"The world was changing," said Ryan. "I simply observed."

"… Right," said Geoff slowly. Yeah, that dude was strange.

"Do you want us to get you somewhere?" asked Jack. "I can get you a horse. You can ride home."

Ryn shivered violently. "I don’t have a home. Not anymore."

"Oh. That sucks," said Gavin sadly.

"I could…. I could work for you," said Ryan hesitantly.

"For us?"

"I’ve been a dancer for all my life. I can keep going… if you’ll let me."

"Eh, why not," said Geoff immediately. "You’re prettier than this lot," he said, pointing at the four others. "I won’t say no to seeing you dance if you feel like it. Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you should find him a room."

"On it."

Jack took Ryan’s hand and gently lead him out.

Outside, the people were clamoring “Long live the Kings!” and Ryan, just like the Kingdom of Abuter, was finally free.

**********

Geoff was so thankful to have someone like Jack by his side.

Himself certainly knew how to lead troops and how to command respect, but fuck if he knew how to organize things. At least not on the scale of a whole Kingdom.

Edgar’s advisers had been killed in the mayhem of the battle, now he didn’t even have someone to ask about the state of the Kingdom, about the finances or what political alliances had been established since Geoff's father, rightful and righteous King, had been killed, and his family had been forced to run away twenty-five years ago. The five new Kings had to figure everything out by themselves.

And Jack had jumped to the task without even being asked, giving Geoff some time to breathe and get his mind in the game. Jack was awesome.

The sun was shining on the castle, bright and glowing with summer heat, and Geoff was watching from a high window as chariots of food were coming in. Presents from the closest Kingdoms who'd suddenly decided to help Geoff and his own after years of leaving him to himself, after playing nice with Edgar to avoid confrontation like the cowards they all were. Leaving five men and a diminished slave to free Abuter while they looked on from the comfort of their castle.

Speaking of slave… Michael and Ray had just entered the throne room, a bag of medical supplies around Michael’s shoulder and a bowl of water in Ray’s hands.

"So?" asked Geoff. "How is he?"

"Tired," said Michael. "And his wrists aren’t in a pretty state."

"Yeah," said Ray grimly, glancing at the thick shackles on the ground. Nobody had moved them yet ; Geoff had kicked them absent-mindedly a few minutes earlier and had been astounded at how heavy they were. "I can believe he was chained for ten years. He’s gonna have nasty scars."

"Did he tell you more about himself?" asked Geoff. "Like where he comes from? Or anything?"

"Not really… just said he was from the west of the Kingdom but Edgar demolished everything. Ryan really doesn’t have a home anymore."

Geoff did a quick calculation. This man couldn’t be older than thirty-five and Edgar had attacked the west twenty-five years ago. Ryan should have been less than ten years old when his city was destroyed, then… Geoff frowned. Something wasn’t right, this didn’t fit.

As far as he could tell, Ryan wasn’t the only slave Edgar had kept (and by now, all of them had been freed and offered a home in the castle while they got their bearings), but he certainly was the most peculiar.

Firstly, he seemed to know the layout of this castle better than Geoff himself, which wasn’t a small detail -Geoff had spent the first thirteen years of his life here and he’d never found any secret passages.

Secondly, why were his shackles so thick and cumbersome? Surely he couldn’t dance that well with those heavy things eating his wrists, so why would Edgar keep him as a dancer? It seemed oddly counter-productive. Unless the King had only been doing it for his own sick pleasure, watching someone who can barely move try to dance...

"What’s he doing, now?" he asked, trying to ignore the bubble of anger forming in his chest.

"Sleeping," said Michael. "He fell asleep before we even finished bandaging him."

Well. Geoff would have to wait to ask more questions then.

"I’m going to see how Jack is doing. You two can finish cleaning this room, right?"

"Oh sure," said Michael. "I fucking love cleaning up blood…"

"I know you do. I’ll see you later."

Geoff walked out and closed the door behind him without looking back. Michael could understand why being in this room was unsettling for him ; this was where Edgar had killed his parents in front of him, where his childhood had been taken away from him in the most violent way. But he was going to have to get over it if he wanted to rule that Kingdom.

Michael looked at the iron shackles laying on the floor and bent down to pick them up. As soon as he touched them, a strange prickling sensation ran up his arm, a tickle, not light enough to be pleasant but not strong enough to be painful. He brought them up to his eyes and frowned at the things, noticing the smallest, thinnest carvings running inside the wrist bands ; rows of squiggly lines, like a child's drawing of the sea. That explained why Ryan's wrists were in such a bad shape, these lines must have been cutting into his skin all the time.

"Hey Michael, give me a hand."

Ray was standing on the throne, grappling at a giant tapestry hung on the wall behind it.

"What are you doing?"

"It’s a tapestry of Edgar killing Geoff’s father. Think we can bring it down and set it on fire?"

Michael smirked. “Of course.”

He put the shackles inside a big brown bag full of junk and forgot about them. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan was free.

Free, and… well.

The room he’d been given was the nicest thing he’d ever slept in, even before Edgar came along. The bed felt like he was lying on a cloud, the carpet was lush under his naked feet, every pillow was a stack of feathers.

He’d also been given shoes and clothes a little warmer than what he was used to wear. Ryan had left them on an armchair that looked like it was made of cotton candy. He'd only taken the shirt, a brown and simple thing with long sleeves hiding his wrists.

Of course he was used to pricey furniture and expensive clothing, he’d spent half his life around them. But he was not, definitely not, used to owning them in any shape or form. He wasn’t sure whose room this had been. A woman’s, surely. She had probably been killed during the take-over. Ryan was sleeping in pricey, garish furniture owned by a woman he’d helped kill.

If he thought about it, the people the new kings had killed all deserved it in some way or another. They’d enslaved him and many others, branded him, bound him and treated him like trash. He had been the entertainment, the one people of the Royal Court forced to dance when they were bored. And none of them really knew _why_ , why he was there at all, why he was made to dance.

Only Edgar knew. He'd wanted to make Ryan remember everything he'd lost. To make him dance but rob him of the joy he used to get out of it. Magic flowed through a Mage's body and was released through carefully executed moves ; the Mages used to knit all the moves together and dance as the world around them came alive. To dance without being able to use magic had killed Ryan's spirits faster than anything else.

He thought he ought to be angry about it, to be happy these people were finally out of his life for good. But all he was feeling was bewilderment, and a sense of being utterly and completely lost. He felt out of place, too small, underprepared.

To make things even harder on him, the five new Kings treated him with a level of respect he’d done nothing to deserve. It was now only three days after the take-over, and there was always one of them checking on him every once in a while, coming to see if his wounds were healing, talking to him as if to make sure he wasn’t bored.

Michael was probably the most chatty of them all, and not scared of being blunt. He was cleaning up Ryan’s bandages when he asked,

"Why don’t you ever come out of your room?"

Ryan cocked his head to the side, trying his best not to wince as whatever Michael was doing stung his battered skin.

"I do come out."

"Yeah. Like, once a day to stretch. And you never go very far, you just hover around your door. You do know Geoff freed you, right?"

"Yes."

"And that means you’re free to go wherever you wanna go."

"Yes…"

"You could even grab a horse and ride away if you wanted."

Ryan flinched violently enough to pull his hands out of Michael’s grip.

He hadn’t meant to. He was as surprised as Michael when he realized what he’d just done.

"I…" he started, but he had no idea what to say. He didn’t know what just happened.

"Okay, never mind," said Michael easily. "I won’t talk about riding away anymore. Just let me finish bandaging you and I’ll be out of your hair."

"No… But…"

"Never mind," repeated Michael more firmly. He offered Ryan a smile. "It’s not a big deal. Do whatever you want, you don’t even have to explain yourself."

Ryan bit his lip and stayed silent until the end. Michael packed up his things and waved goodbye. Just before closing the door behind him though, he threw a last glance at Ryan.

"You've been locked in here for ten years. I think I'd be scared of the rest of the world too if I were you. But remember : you're free."

And he left.

Ryan looked down at his hands. Nobody had noticed, too preoccupied by his wrists, but the tips of his fingers were blank. Melted by hot fire, the skin was smooth, not a wrinkle to show. No fingerprints left. Even if they did notice, Ryan wasn’t sure they would know what it meant. There was a chance none of them had ever seen a Mage.

He closed his hands in fists. He might be the last Mage still alive. He wasn’t about to stay alone in the room of a dead woman for the rest of his life, was he? Michael was right. He was allowed to roam the hallways of a castle his ancestors had helped to build.

He stood up and grabbed shoes and a thick cloak, and opened the door slightly. One glance to the right, one to the left, nobody in sight. Ryan stepped out of the room and took a big breath.

"I’m free," he said to himself, and started walking away from his room.

**********

The news of Edgar’s demise was quick to spread to all the other Kingdoms. Geoff hadn’t had the time to send out a messenger yet, but it only took three days before his newly-appointed page ran to him.

"Sir, sir!" said the boy excitedly. "King Burnie is asking to be allowed in."

"He’s here already?!"

"He says he has supplies for us."

"Right… thanks."

The page ran off somewhere else. So much energy in that kid, though Geoff, it was enough to make you want to sleep.

The other Kings were all busy doing something or other but Geoff managed to wrangle them all into the throne room to welcome their guest.

The throne room, as a matter of fact, had been stripped bare. Save for the one throne and torches on the walls there was nothing.

The guys had insisted that Geoff took the throne, which made the rest of them stand by his side and honestly it made Geoff feel a bit awkward. It also didn’t feel right to welcome an old friend in such a desolate-looking room when you were supposed to be the freaking King, or one of them anyway. He saw the surprise in Burnie’s eyes as he entered the room, followed by two or three people from his personal guard.

"So," said Burnie, "you’ve redecorated."

"Do you like it?"

Burnie smiled. “Well. It’s better than what it was, anyway. All those paintings to Edgar’s glory brought the mood down.”

"How come you’re here already?" asked Jack. "When did you hear about us?"

"Last night. I left as soon as I could. I needed to come pay my respects to the new Kings, and to apologize for not having helped you further."

"You gave us weapons and horses," said Geoff. "It’s more than anyone else has done for us. We knew you were busy keeping your own borders safe. How’s King Coal doing?"

"He’s always been a prick and he’s keeping that up," summarized Burnie. "Sending spies to my Kingdom, trying to spread rumors about me in my own Kingdom... Just being a nuisance."

"We'll help you as soon as we can," promised Jack. "We’ve been told you have supplies for us?"

"Yep. I got you enough food to feed the hungry for about a month, and men to help you organize shit around here. You look like you need it."

"More than you know. Thank you."

A creaking sound interrupted everyone. They turned as one towards the door. There was a gasp and Geoff barely had the time to catch a glimpse of blue eyes before they were gone.

He frowned. “Was that…?”

"Yep," said Michael, already leaping for the door. "I’ll get him."

"What?" said Burnie. "Who was that?"

"Ryan," said Gavin. "He’s a slave."

"What?!"

"No," said Geoff quickly, "that’s not what he means."

"He just asked to work for us," said Gavin, trying to rectify his mistake.

"Are you… trying to tell me he asked to be your slave?"

"No!"

"Geoff!"

"God damn it Gavin, just shut the hell up."

"Ahem!"

They turned towards the door again, this time to see Michael standing there with Ryan behind him. The man had his head bowed and his hands meekly clasped before him, eyes shyly looking up at the people in the room.

"So I found this behind the door," said Michael.

"I’m sorry," said Ryan quickly. "I didn’t know you were having a meeting I was just… just looking around. I didn’t mean to intrude…"

"You’re not intruding," said Burnie. He gave Geoff the stink-eye before asking, "What’s your name?"

"Ryan… Ryan Haywood."

"Are you a courtesan?"

"Burns!" roared Geoff indignantly.

"He used to be Edgar’s slave," said Gavin, "but he helped us out."

"So you just keep him around for the fun of it?"

"It’s not like that!"

"Hum… If I may?" asked Ryan. His voice was a little stronger, a little deeper and commanded enough attention for everyone to look at him.

"Of course you do," said Burnie immediately.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Geoff freed me, it was his very first decree as a King if I recall correctly… I simply asked to stay in the Castle, your Majesty. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

"Oh…"

"And the Kings have treated me very kindly. They are not keeping me as a slave. They’ve only been helping me."

Burnie nodded slowly. “I see… If this is really what you want… Though I can’t understand why you’d want to stay with those idiots. They said you work for them?”

For some reason, Ryan tensed slightly and didn’t answer. Geoff did it for him.

"He’s our official… royal… entertainer… man."

"Is that a thing?" asked Ray.

"It is now."

"Are you all right, Ryan?" asked Michael.

Since Burnie had uttered the word 'work', Ryan's already pale skin had been fading even more. If he kept going, Geoff thought, he was going to turn transparent soon.

"I’ll get him back to his room," said Michael helpfully.

"I’m coming with you!" said Gavin, running after them. The lad was only too happy to get away before the boring diplomatic discussions started.

"What’s the deal with him, then?" asked Burnie.

"Dunno," said Jack truthfully. "He’s a bit lost, but I guess that’s understandable. He’s been Edgar’s slave for ten years."

"Ten?" repeated Burnie, an edge of disgust in his voice. "That’s gotta break a man…"

"Yeah…" said Geoff slowly.

"Something bothering you?"

"Well… He said he was from the West, and that he was caught when Edgar destroyed that part of the Kingdom."

"That was twenty-five years ago."

"Exactly. But he’s been a slave for ten years."

Burnie frowned. “You think he’s lying?”

"I have no idea. I don’t see why he would lie…"

"Well, he’s got something to hide," said Ray matter-of-factly. "Doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing he’s hiding. Maybe he’s just embarrassed."

"Of what?"

"I don’t know. What if he used to own a brothel? He could be a pimp."

"You’re an idiot," sighed Geoff.

"I’m just saying", shrugged Ray. "He wouldn’t have helped us out if he had a horrible secret, right? He’s a good guy."

Geoff nodded. "Yeah, I think so too. But it's strange..."

**********

Michael and Gavin let Ryan flop miserably on his bed. They stood silently, unsure what to do to ease his obvious distress.

"Are you going to be all right?" asked Gavin.

"I’m not dancing," mumbled Ryan pitifully.

"Huh… Right now? No, you’re not."

Ryan laughed briefly. “In general. I asked to stay here in exchange for work and I’m not working. I'm sorry, my Kings--”

"Don't call us that," interrupted Michael. Hearing a former-slave use honorifics made him feel queasy. "Look, it's fine. Your wrists look like someone went at them with a blunt machete. Get better first, you’ll dance later."

"You look like you haven’t slept in days," pointed out Gavin.

Ryan hesitated before saying, “This room makes me uncomfortable. It’s full of… stuff.”

"Yeah," said Michael, looking around. "I think I see what you mean. Hey, I’ll ask Burnie if he can do something about that."

"What? No! It’s not necessary!"

"Relax, dude. Burnie owes us anyway, it’s no big deal."

Ryan heaved himself into a sitting position and looked at the two Kings in front of him. He looked down at his battered hands, deep in thoughts.

"King Gavin," he said, "you weren’t born here, were you?"

"Nope," said Gavin. "Why?"

"I was wondering where your accent comes from…"

"Oh. Well, yeah, I was born in Angria, it’s on the other side of the ocean. I haven’t seen that place in forever though."

"And you, King Michael?"

"Don't call me 'king'. And I’m just from the north-east of Abuter. Why?"

"Just wondering…" said Ryan cryptically.

**********

True to his words Michael had asked King Burnie for help, and the very next day Ryan opened his door to ten men who spent the morning breaking down all the furniture, and the afternoon getting him new ones.

He escaped the busy bedroom for the day, walking aimlessly around the castle. He still had the annoying feeling that someone was going to yell an order at him a any moment, that he was going to be punished for leaving his room without permission. He did his best to ignore it all, but he couldn't stop twitching, rubbing his smooth fingers together nervously.

His steps lead him to the library where he found kings Jack and Ray, busy putting books up on the shelves.

"Hey, Ryan!" greeted Ray. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking around…"

"Do you wanna give us a hand?"

Ryan approached and looked down at the stacks of books on the floor. They were about ancient magic, the history and geography of neighboring Kingdoms, essays on other cultures and folklore. A gold mine of information.

"I thought those had been destroyed..." Ryan ran a hand along the thick cover of a grimoire written in a foreign language -a language he hadn’t read or heard since he was a child.

"So did we, but we discovered them in the dungeon," said Jack. "There are some rare things in there, it’s incredible."

Happy to have something to do, Ryan helped them out. He paused on some books, reading a few pages out of hem before putting them aside for later. Jack was in a chirpy mood and sung songs from his part of the Kingdom from time to time. Ryan didn’t know any songs, at least none with lyrics, but Jack was quite happy to make him learn.

Meanwhile, Ray found a book on roses and spent half an hour looking at the lush and beautiful flowers drawn on every other page. The atmosphere was pleasant and relaxing and Ryan lost himself in his task until he saw the rays of sunshine filter through the window.

"Oh… It’s midday already," he remarked.

"Is it? Damn, that’s why I’m starving," said Ray. "Let’s go get some lunch!"

"You’re coming, Ryan?" asked Jack.

Ryan blinked at him as if he hadn’t understood.

"What?"

"You coming with us? Eat lunch?"

"What… with you?"

"That’s what I said, yes. Just come on."

Jack took him by the elbow and pushed him out of the room, and Ryan suddenly found himself eating at the Kings’ table.

He listened to their conversation, smiled at their jokes. He stayed out of it and they didn’t push him. At the end of the meal Jack and Ray invited him to the library again and Ryan followed willingly.

Days went by, quickly turning into weeks, and the kings were still as gentle with him as ever. Ryan felt so much kindness from them that it was overwhelming. Waves of gratitude washed over him every time they went out of their way to make him feel comfortable, to make him forget about those ten years enslaved.

But with all of this came guilt. Every kind word out of the kings' mouth reminded Ryan that he was lying to them every day, that he didn’t deserve quite so much attention.

He tried to use magic again, alone in his room. But there was nothing, not a spark out of his fingers.

The shackles had been made to strangle magic, to smother it until it died. But for ten years Ryan had always felt a little magic current still running through him -nothing spectacular, but enough to throw his mind out of his body, to spend a few hours watching five men from afar, trying to judge how far they were from the castle and thinking of a plan to help them kill the King.

But it seemed this last push had effectively killed all his magic. He had siphoned every last drop of power out of himself. Ryan's arms flopped down on the bed in disgust. He was lying to the five Kings and he wasn’t even good enough for it to be a worthy lie.

To make himself feel better Ryan read a lot. All those books he’d borrowed from the library were about each of the kings’ native places, and all of them had at least a chapter on traditional dances. He read those pages again and again, learning everything, memorizing everything.

For some reason, which Ryan suspected had to do with an intense desire to avoid work at all costs, King Gavin had taken to visit him in his room and sit around while Ryan read. He usually plopped down on the armchair and started babbling about something or other, Ryan wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about half the time. His colorful vocabulary was part of the problem.

The first time Ryan made a remark about it, the words had come out of his mouth before he could stop them. Horror curled in his stomach as he realized what he’d just done and he looked up at the King.

"I’m sorry, my King I didn’t mean it, I just…"

"Shut up, you mincy little prick," said Gavin, but he was smirking. "I’m not making any of those words up. They’re all genuine!"

"But… ‘daft’…"

"Is a real word! It means ‘stupid’. Like you are being right now."

"I somehow doubt this," said Ryan slowly. He was starting to feel the vice around his heart loosen a bit as Gavin kept smiling.

The King started listing word after word to Ryan, all more ridiculous sounding than the previous one. He even found a pen in one of his many pockets and spelled out the words on his hands and arms, and Ryan found himself laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> llllllet's dance

It didn't take long for everyone to notice that Ryan had an undeniable talent for being quiet and stealthy.

The man liked to appear without warning by Geoff’s side, usually holding some kind of beverage that Geoff was always happy to drink but god damn, he could do without the jump-scare.

He didn’t say anything though. He was far too happy to see Ryan get out of his room more and more, get more confident with each passing day, even if he seemed overly concerned with pleasing the Kings as if they were going to kick him out if he wasn’t good enough.

He’d recently started actually talking to them instead of listening passively, and had revealed himself to be not only courageous but also incredibly intelligent and quite funny. Most of his snarky comments were aimed at Gavin and the lad took them in stride and usually retorted with something stupid that made Ryan laugh without restraints, high-pitched chuckles that contrasted with his deep voice, and honestly Geoff found it quite adorable.

As his wounds healed, scars appeared on the skin and took a purple tint in places. They formed a patchwork ring around Ryan’s wrists, which he usually hid under long sleeves like a shameful secret. Until one evening, as Geoff and the guys were alone in the throne room and there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" called Jack,

Ryan poked his head in.

"Sorry to intrude… Are you busy right now?"

"Not really. Why?"

Ryan opened the door wide to reveal a whole freaking orchestra standing behind him. They all walked in, taking position in the middle of the room as if they had rehearsed it.

Ryan followed them in and Geoff heard a “woah…” from Ray. The man was dressed all in green and gold, the tissue so light it floated around him with each step he took. It was quite a change from the long cloaks and old shirts Ryan had worn since he’d been freed.

Golden jewels jingled happily around his discolored wrists as he clasped his hands together, standing a little nervously before the rest of them. He smiled, a little bit bashful but determined.

"I think I owe you some entertainment," he said.

"… I think you might," said Geoff.

Ryan’s smile stretched. He gestured to the orchestra. The music started, melodic and flowing, and with it Ryan started to dance.

Geoff watched first in surprise, then in admiration as the man followed the gentle rhythm, each move careful and precise, graceful and light. Well, now Geoff understood the stealthiness. Someone who had such control over their body could probably walk on clouds.

The music changed slightly, tempo getting faster and Ryan’s naked feet tapped on the floor with a complicated move Geoff wasn’t sure he understood. He heard a chuckle and looked at Jack.

"It’s a dance from my village," he whispered to Geoff, smiling. "People used to dance like that at the beginning of the hunting season to wish the hunters good luck."

And the dance was obviously a warrior dance in nature ; as the rhythm went faster Ryan’s gestures became resolute and powerful.

It didn’t stop there. The music changed again, so did the dance, and this time Geoff heard Gavin giggle. Soon after Geoff recognized the dance he used to see performed during long Summer nights as he sat on his mother’s lap, watching a row of dancers telling a story with their bodies.

When came Ray’s turn, Ryan’s smooth steps brought him closer and in one, uninterruptedly motion, took a rose out of his sleeve. He offered it without ever stopping, and Geoff could have sworn he’d seen Ray blush.

Seamlessly, Ryan went from one part of the world to another, dances melting together as easily as if they were meant to follow each other.

They watched him dance the dances of their childhood, a reminder not only of their homes, but of their homes before Edgar came and ruined them, when happiness used to flow through the Kingdom. And for Ray and Michael who had never known the world without Edgar, they finally discovered things they had only ever heard about.

When the music gave its last note, Ryan frozen in his final pose, clothes still swirling around him, Geoff felt a pang of sadness. He wanted this to continue forever.

They applauded with enthusiasm, Gavin and Michael whistling like idiots and Ray and Jack shouting praises. As the orchestra was dismissed they ran to Ryan and Gavin immediately asked to be taught some moves.

Ryan laughed but he showed him a few simple steps.

"No, Gavin. Hold your arms straighter…" he said patiently as the lad did everything but what he was instructed.

"Like this!" said Ray, and he put his rose behind his ear before demonstrating.

"Yeah… just, less stiff," said Ryan.

Ray scowled as Gavin laughed at him.

"You guys are useless," said Michael. He then demonstrated the move and it made Ryan smile broadly.

"Yep, Michael has it."

"Show me, Michael!" chirped Gavin.

Geoff and Jack watched the scene, laughing to themselves until Ray forced them to take part. The impromptu dance lesson lasted well into the night.

**********

Finally, Ryan was feeling better.

Not only physically with his wounds now sealed, but also mentally as he was starting to feel like he was pulling his weight, at least a little bit. Now he could dance he didn’t feel as guilty as before, he could finally do what he’d been kept around for. Rehearsing in secret for that first performance had been fun, and dancing for the Kings had felt like flying.

It had been the first time in over ten years he’d been allowed to dance for himself and it was true freedom. For the first time, he had truly understood what the shackles had done ; how much his movements had been impaired, how much these heavy chains had weighed him down.

Geoff kept asking him questions, trying to find out where he learned to dance and why, saying he was simply curious, and Ryan always managed to give an incomplete answer. The truth was that all Mages learned to dance at a young age. Ryan had his first dance lesson at five years old, in a field where fireflies used to join in on the fun, twirling around him. He used to think they were fallen stars…

He didn’t feel any power in him anymore, but he did feel the need to practice those moves, to remember those nights he spent with his parents dancing among the stars. Edgar had burned down that field when he’d arrived. Ryan’s parents had been caught in the fire, as had many other Mages. All that was left of it now were the memories.

When he wasn’t dancing or practicing, Ryan sought out the kings’ company. He tried his best to help them out when they seemed burned-out, the poor guys were working hard to put this Kingdom back on tracks. Burnie was helping out and it seemed things were getting better and easier to deal with, but there was still a lot of work to do.

**********

"I wonder if there are any left…" said Jack thoughtfully one afternoon as they were all sitting around the table reading various reports while Ryan was busy sewing one of his costumes. Snow was falling slowly from the sky and gluing itself to the windows, and a fire was crackling in the hearth behind Ryan.

"Any what?" asked Gavin.

"Mages."

Ryan missed and pricked his finger with the needle. He stifled a shout of pain but Geoff had noticed him.

"I dunno," said Michael casually. "I think they’ve all died out a long time ago, haven’t they?"

"Most of them were killed," said Jack thoughtfully. "Nobody's ever liked those poor guys..."

"There were a few left when I was a kid," said Geoff. His eyes were still on Ryan, and Ryan kept looking at his clothes and wished he could run out of this room without looking suspicious. "I don’t know what happened to them when Edgar took over. I sure as dicks haven’t seen any in a very long time. Why are you thinking about that, Jack?"

"Just this report I’m reading. It’s about the colonies in the South. It’s where the Mages used to live, right?"

"Yeah. My great-grandfather offered them this piece of land after some people started rioting and trying to kill anyone who looked like they could use magic. He wanted to push the Mages out of the cities so everyone could calm the fuck down."

A sharp pain in his palm made Ryan realize he'd been driving the needle into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. He forced himself to lay his hands flat on his knees, eyes looking down at the cloth he'd been sewing and not at the kings.

Geoff was still talking. "They built a nice little society for themselves down there, I think..."

"Well, everything’s gone now," said Jack. "Edgar seems to have wiped the Colonies out. Whole cities have been reduced to ruins, covered in moss… and people who live nearby refuse to go there. They say there are ghosts and magical creatures roaming around the dead stones."

"Magical creatures?" repeated Gavin. "I thought you didn’t have those on this side of the ocean."

"We have some," said Michael with a shrug. "I mean to be fair, there are no dragons like in Angria, but you know. We have… goat-eating monsters."

"Dragons have been dead for a while," said Gavin. "There’s only fairies and werewolves left."

"Werewolves? Seriously?"

"Yeah. They all live together in the east of the country. They usually don’t bother anyone."

"Well that’s reassuring," sneered Michael. "Your homeland sounds like a dream. Fucking werewolves walking around like nothing…"

"Hey, at least there are still Mages left," said Gavin a bit crossly. "We haven’t persecuted them until they all died and became ghosts."

"Ghosts don’t exist," said Geoff firmly.

"I saw a ghost once," said Ray.

"No," said Geoff. "Whatever you saw it was just your eyes playing a trick on you."

"Well that trick had some womanly curves, then."

"Stop daydreaming about imaginary girlfriends," said Gavin with a pout.

Ray ‘awww’ed and kissed him on the cheek. Ryan's heart gave a little painful tug as he watched them.

"Do you know about this, Ryan?"

All eyes turned to him. Ryan swallowed.

"Huh… no…," he lied. "I mean, not more than anyone else. I don’t think."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sire," said Ryan softly, eyes lowering.

The kings stayed silent for a minute, surprised at his show of submission. It had been months since he had last talked to them with so much reverence.

Ryan tried to ignore the way Geoff’s eyes kept darting toward him every once in a while. He shivered. The snow on the window suddenly seemed to be winning against the fire in his back.

**********

"What was that about?" asked Jack.

They were lying in their bed, the lads already snoring. Gavin and Ray were sleeping on top of each other and their gangly limbs looked like spider legs. Geoff pushed Gavin’s arm away from his chest so he could look at Jack more clearly in the dim light.

"What?"

"Why are you laying into Ryan like that?"

"I’m not."

"Come on. You scared him so much he almost lied down at your feet and rolled on his back. What’s the problem?"

Geoff sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare him. I didn't even say anything bad, did I… I guess it’s just curiosity but I can feel there’s something on his mind. He looks guilty half the time and the other half he just looks uncomfortable.”

"Guilty?" Jack sat up on the bed. "You don’t think he’s going to betray us or anything, right?"

"No," said Geoff immediately, "of course not. I’d just… want to help him get rid of that guilt. If he’s hiding something from us it means he doesn’t trust us and that makes me…" Geoff stopped, searching for the right word.

"Sad?" supplied Jack.

Geoff snorted. “I’m not a child, Jack, I don’t get teary-eyed at the idea that someone doesn’t want to be my friend. Shut up and sleep.”

He rolled on his side and closed his eyes. It took him two more hours to finally fall asleep. His thoughts kept bringing him back to Ryan.

Okay, so maybe he was a little bit sad.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now... magic.

Ryan was woken up by the door to his room creaking open and three pairs of feet stomping on the floor.

"Rise and shine, princess!" said Michael, loud and clear. "We’re going on an adventure!"

Ryan peeled his face off the pillow and blinked blearily at the intruders.

"Whut?"

"Geoff decided to take a day off today. We’re going out! The sun’s shining, the birds are singing…"

"The wind is blowing," said Ray morosely.

"Ray’s sulking, everything’s perfect."

"Huh… but…" Ryan pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. "Why did you… come here?"

"You’re coming with us!" said Gavin. "Well, if you want to, anyway. You’re invited."

"Really?"

"Yes! When are you going to understand that we enjoy your company?"

"Huh… but, the Kingdom…"

"We have people to take care of it. It’s just for a day, nobody’s gonna die."

"We’ll let you get dressed, breakfast’s waiting for you in the dining room and so are we!" said Michael.

He pushed the other two out, leaving Ryan to frown confusedly at the closed door. He grabbed some clothes and went to the dining room, where he indeed found the five Kings eating breakfast.

"Ryan’s here!" announced Gavin, mouth stuffed with bread. He had donned his multi-pocketed clothes and had his bow and arrow on his shoulder.

"You’re coming then?" said Geoff.

Ryan nodded hesitantly.

"Great! We’ll get you a horse. You know how to ride, right?"

"I think so. I used to, anyway. It’s been a while."

"Eh, you don’t forget those things," said Geoff dismissively.

As it turned out, you did forget those things. It took Ryan three attempts before he was seated on the horse Jack had offered him, and then he had to wriggle for a while before he could find the right posture to adopt.

Gavin, mounted on his own horse, came up next to him with a mocking smile.

"You don’t look all that graceful right now."

"Shut up or I push you off your horse," mumbled Ryan.

"Wow, you’re in a bad mood."

"I’m not. I’m sorry," said Ryan quickly. "I’m just wondering how I’ll ever be able to follow you guys when I can barely sit on that animal."

Gavin seemed to think about it for a moment. He slipped a hand into one of his many pockets and got a surprisingly long rope out of it.

Ryan frowned at it. “How did you stuff that in there…”

"I’m magic. Here…"

Gavin tied one end of the rope to his saddle and the other to the bridle of Ryan’s horse.

"There. Your horse’s just going to follow Grisham now, you’ll be fine."

"Grisham?"

"S’my horse!" said Gavin.

"You’ll have to name yours," said Michael as he came up to them on his horse, followed by Ray who was still obviously sulking.

"He doesn’t have a name already?"

"Nah, we just got it for you."

Ryan’s jaw hung stupidly open. Gavin reached out and closed it with his index finger.

"Don’t be like that, you’ll need a horse if you come with us on trips. So? What’s his name?"

The horse under Ryan was brown, its hair shining in the sun. It was shaking its head slightly as the breeze was messing with its mane, and as Ryan racked his brain for a name he suddenly remembered his grandfather’s dog. A giant, brown, shaggy-haired monster who barked loudly and often shook his head as his long hair tickled the inside of his ears.

A fond smile curled Ryan’s lips.

"Hunter," he said. "I’ll call him Hunter."

"Well that’s a stupid name," said Gavin immediately.

Michael smacked him over the head. “Shut the fuck up, Gavin. It’s his horse, he can do whatever the fuck he wants with it. Ray named his horse Dirk Dirk anyway, I don’t think you can do worse than that.”

"It’s a family name," said Ray with a straight face.

"Sure. Hey Hunter, meet Hidalgo!" Michael tapped the side of his horse affectionately.

Geoff and Jack, mounted on their respective horses, were coming towards them.

"If you guys have finished touching dicks," said Geoff, "maybe we can finally go?"

"And those are Patches and Mystery," said Michael, pointing first at Jack’s horse then at Geoff’s.

"Ryan named his horse Hunter," said Gavin.

"Nice," approved Geoff with a nod. "It suits him. Come on now, let’s go! I want to reach the forest before midday so we can eat by the river."

And off they went, Hunter being pulled along gently by Grisham.

As they crossed the drawbridge Ryan realized he hadn’t been out of the castle in years. If he wanted fresh air he simply went to the gardens, which were large enough to make you forget that they were still inside the walls, but he hadn’t put a foot on the other side of the bridge since the day Edgar had brought him in.

He’d seen the outside from the highest windows, looking out at the rest of the world as if he wasn't part of it. It was a completely different perspective from the ground. It was big and maybe too big. He felt a pang of panic as the high walls became smaller and smaller behind him and his fists tightened on the reins. 

A hand tapped his shoulder. Ray had made his horse walk side by side with Ryan's without him noticing anything, and the young king was now smiling at him.

"I don’t like outside either," he said. "All this nature and stuff? I’m pretty sure 90% of it can kill you."

"You’re a soldier," pointed out Ryan. "You’re used to things that can kill you."

"Hey, I’ve only ever been a soldier out of necessity. If I can avoid it, I’d rather stay in my room, not soldiering and not doing this whole ‘going outside’ thing."

"You’re very good with a sword for someone who only uses it occasionally."

"Yeah, well… Let’s just say "necessity" has happened quite a lot since I was born. You know I’m from the East, right? The last part of the Kingdom to fall before Edgar. My people resisted for years, I was twelve when we finally gave up the fight. I’ve been trained with a sword whether I wanted it or not since I could hold one. So has Michael, but I think he secretly enjoys it…"

"It’s not secret at all," said Michael who was riding just in front of them. "I love seeing my enemies die. Always gives you a sense of accomplishment."

Ryan stayed silent as the conversation went on without him, Ray and Michael reminiscing their shared battles.

He had killed before -the very last spell he’d ever sent had struck men down and left lifeless corpses in their stead- but he barely remembered how it felt… Perhaps he’d blacked it all out of his memory. His parents had always told him magic was a force for good, but Ryan had been forced to brandish it as a weapon… Out of necessity, just like Ray. Yeah, he could understand what the lad meant.

They reached the river Geoff had been talking about and dismounted to sit in the grass as Jack passed sandwiches around. The sun was warm and the water sparkling as it gurgled by their side, a soothing background noise to the conversations they held. Ryan felt himself loosen up, his apprehensions melting away as they so often did when he was around the kings.

The afternoon was spent walking in the forest, and Gavin demonstrated his archery skills by attacking imaginary enemies in the form of trees. He even tried to teach Ryan how to shoot.

"But… What if I miss and I accidentally strike one of you?"

"Ryan, you’re facing the other direction," said Gavin. "We’re all behind you. You’d have to be really, really bad to hit us."

"Maybe I am that bad!"

"Just shoot the bloody arrow! Remember what I told you : arm straight and steady."

That, Ryan knew how to do. He lifted the bow, pulled back the string, and swallowed nervously before letting go of it.

The arrow didn’t loop around and pierce one of the kings, but it did go wayward and, with a mocking ‘thud’, it embedded itself high up in a tree.

Ryan looked at it dejectedly as laughter boomed behind him.

"You’re hopeless," said Gavin as Ryan gave him the bow back.

"I’ll go get it…"

"You can climb trees?"

Ryan shrugged. He’d never tried.

In the end Gavin got his arrow back and Ryan got a bruised backside, a cut on his chin and scrapped hands.

"You’re ridiculous," said Jack, trying his best not to laugh his ass off at the poor man who had just fallen down a tree.

The rest of the guys didn’t have his manners and they were all openly laughing, even as Ryan pouted.

"Come on."

Jack took his hands and helped him back up. His fingers ghosted over Ryan's scarred wrists for a second, almost touching the skin but not quite. Ryan watched him confusedly, but Jack smiled brightly and started brushing the dirt off his clothes.

When the sky started to turn darker they wondered where the day had gone. They went back to their horses and started the ride back to the castle. A saddle wasn’t ideal for Ryan and his bruised pride but he endured it silently. 

And as darkness chased away the light, as they rode side by side in the middle of a wide field, small lights appeared in the grass. Fireflies lit up all around them, started to fly and spin in the night. Flying stars that made Ryan forget all about his pain.

**********

Michael had somehow become Official Ryan Mender. He didn't mind, it wasn't like Ryan was a bad patient, but he'd rather the guy stopped hurting himself.

Tonight Michael only had to clean and bandage a few scrapes and bruises from Ryan's earlier tree-climbing... or rather, tree-falling prowesses, which was miles better than trying to heal mangled wrists. As always, Ryan let Michael take care of him, quiet and docile.

Michael noticed something odd though, something he’d never seen before. He brushed the tip of Ryan’s fingers and felt the smooth skin where it should have felt rough.

"Wow. What’s with your fingers?"

Ryan brought his hands down immediately.

"Nothing. Just… something Edgar did."

"Are they... burned?" said Michael, puzzled. "He burned your fingertips? Can I see?"

"No," said Ryan, and he clutched his fists.

Michael looked at him blankly. "Okay. Whatever."

He packed up his things and was about to get up from the bed when another question popped up in his head.

"Is there a reason you called your horse Hunter?"

For a moment Ryan seemed to hesitate.

Then he started talking about his grandfather, about the dog he always took with him when he went hunting. He also talked about the fields and the fireflies, about the mountains that the setting sun turned red, about the caves that hid lakes and the lakes that hid caves.

Michael listened carefully. Ryan had a way with words, his soothing voice painting vivid pictures in his mind. Michael let his eyes close just for a second, letting the images invade his head.

He opened his eyes eight hours later as the sun tickled his eyelids. He blinked around, taking a second to recognize that he was in his own bed in his own bedroom, surrounded by the four other kings. He didn’t remember getting back here…

Geoff was the only one awake, and he was looking at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Ryan brought you back yesterday. Apparently you fell asleep to his bedtime story.”

Michael nodded. “It was a very nice bedtime story… I never knew the west of this Kingdom was so beautiful.”

"He told you about where he comes from?"

"Yeah. Mountains and fields and fireflies…"

"So romantic. He was carrying you like a bride by the way, you were all curled into his arms, it was adorable! You two make a cute couple."

Michael scowled. “You’re just jealous.”

Geoff smiled widely. “You know what? I think I am.”

**********

Ryan had barely slept all night.

He hadn’t meant to pour his heart out to Michael. It had all tumbled out of his mouth, and it had felt so good... Telling tales of his people was a bit like bringing them back to life, as if everything still existed, as if the fields were still green and the villages still standing.

Michael didn’t know enough to realize what Ryan had described definitely was not the West. But what if he told the other kings about it… Geoff and Jack would know; they would recognize the Southern Colonies. And then Ryan was dead.

A knock on his door made him jump. The five kings entered and Ryan felt himself stiffen, his hands tucked under his crossed legs, smooth fingers hidden from view.

"How are you?" asked Jack. "You look tired."

"Uh… Bad night," he said simply.

"Well, thanks to you I had an awesome night," said Michael. "You should tell me stories every night."

"Me too!" said Gavin.

"I don’t want stories, I just want you to give me more roses," said Ray.

"Bunch of children," said Geoff, rolling his eyes. "Can we talk, Ryan?"

"… Sure…"

Standing as they were, in a line and all looking at him, they looked like they were going to announce something extremely important. Ryan felt like he was burning under their gaze.

There was a moment of silence and then Gavin who blurted out, “You’re nice.”

Ryan didn’t say anything. It seemed his ability to speak or move had disappeared. Those words weren’t the ones he’d been expecting to hear.

"Thank you Gavin," said Michael. "That was elegantly and succinctly put."

"What Gavin and the lads are trying to say," said Jack, "is that we like you a lot and we’d like you to live with us."

Ryan’s voice came back for a second, high-pitched and tremulous, to say “I already live with you…”

"He means _with us_ with us," said Gavin.

"Oh God you’re all useless," sighed Geoff. "How did I ever get into a relationship with you guys when you’re that awful at just saying it?"

"Then do it, Geoff, if it’s so easy for you," mumbled Gavin, his cheeks coloring in red.

Geoff turned to face Ryan fully, faded blue eyes gentle but serious.

"Ryan, we want you to be with us. We’d be happy if you’d accepted to join our relationship."

"We _like_ like you,” summarized Ray with a dorky grin on his face. “And we’d _like_ like you to _like_ like us back so we can _make_ make out.”

"Shut up, Ray. Ryan? What do you say?"

Ryan’s voice had disappeared again. So had his mind. He felt absolutely empty, stunned into complete stillness. Even his heart seemed to have stopped beating.

Seconds of silence stretched. The Kings exchanged meaningful glances. Ryan saw their mouths twist in disappointment, and still he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but gape at them. A voice at the back of his head started shouting at him, telling him to do something, move, run away, cry, laugh, anything at all, just _move_ , for pity's sake! But Ryan stayed still.

"Never mind," said Michael finally. Shoulders low and eyes clouded, he seemed to have deflated.

Jack nodded sadly. "We thought you were interested, I guess we read you wrong."

"We’ll leave you alone now," said Geoff. "If you want to talk to us later you’re always welcome to, of course. Although I get it if you don’t want to talk to us. We’ve made you uncomfortable, we’re sorry."

"Bye, Ryan," said Gavin with a wave as, one by one, they walked out of the room and closed the door behind them.

Ryan watched the wooden door. Then watched it some more. And a little bit more.

And then his mind sprung into action and he bolted off the bed, throwing himself at the door. He ran through the corridors as fast as he could, his head now buzzing with thoughts after having been so empty.

This was his one chance at being happy. And he was letting it slip between his fingers like a fucking idiot. He tore through the whole castle until he reached the kings’ rooms, just in time before Jack closed the door behind him. Ryan leaped.

He grabbed Jack and hugged the man against him, hands grabbing in his shirt as if he were scared Jack would fly away if he didn’t anchor him down.

"R-ryan!!" squeaked Jack, hands tentatively coming around Ryan’s waist.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, of course I want it," was babbling Ryan.

He wasn’t sure he was making sense but nothing made sense. Everything around him seemed to be shrinking and his heartbeat was making his whole body pulse like a drum. Panic was coursing through him at the thought of letting the kings turn away from him. He was a liar, a failed Mage and a useless human but he just wanted to have a home, and those guys felt like home. Ten years of being treated like a dog, of being humiliated and kicked daily, and Ryan wasn't even sure he remembered how to love -but right now his heart had swelled five times bigger and he was chocking on tears, and it hurt like a bitch, and he didn't want it to stop.

He didn’t know he had slid to his knees until Jack’s powerful arms picked him up. He was put onto he bed and surrounded by calming voices. Tears were streaming from his stinging eyes as his hands grabbed Geoff’s wrists and squeezed.

"Calm down Ryan. You’re going to pass out if you keep this up!"

"We understand, we sprung it on you without warning, it’s normal you had a moment of doubt."

"We don’t hold it against you…"

He felt kisses on his brow, hands stroking his back soothingly, but it wasn’t enough. Ryan pulled on Geoff’s shirt until the man was lying down with him and he brought their lips together.

No holds barred he opened his lips and let himself kiss the King, lips burning and tongue buzzing. Geoff’s hands cupped Ryan’s cheeks gently.

"I’m sorry," repeated Ryan against the King’s lips. "I’m not good enough… I’m just a liar and a dancer, how can you hold me so high in your hearts?"

"Hey," shushed Geoff. "I hold whoever I want to whatever height I want. I’m the fucking King, all right?"

"You’re not just a dancer," said Jack. "You’ve done nothing but help us since the very first time we met you. You’ve been loyal and a wonderful friend, we fell for you because you’re worth it."

"You’re sweet and caring" said Michael.

"And Geoff was right, you’re prettier than that lot," said Gavin, pointing at the other guys. "Which doesn’t hurt."

"What they said!" approved Ray.

It took a moment for Ryan to feel like he could do something else than sob pathetically, for his heart to stop trying to break through his chest and his mind to settle. He realized he was still holding on to Geoff and he should let go, but he didn’t want to.

His reddened eyes traveled around the room. He found the rose he had offered Ray the first time he’d danced for them. It had been dried and hung on the wall above the bed.

"Yeah, I kept it," said Ray as he noticed his gaze. "It’s one of the reddest roses I’ve ever seen, don’t know where you got it."

"It was magic," said Gavin solemnly.

It asked everything out of Ryan to not react in any way to this. He’d made the rose appear with a simple trick known by all the street magicians, there was nothing actually magic about it. He had, however, spent a long time in the gardens trying to find the reddest rose he could.

"So," said Geoff, pulling back a little from Ryan’s embrace so he could look at him fully. "I take it you accept our offer?"

"Yes… Yes of course I do. If… you’ll have me."

"We just invited you, of course we’ll have you!" said Michael as Ray let out a little cry of victory and punched the air.

"We’ll need to make it official," said Gavin.

"I’ll take care of it," promised Jack. "I’ll make an announcement."

**********

Jack had maybe been a little over-zealous with his announcement. The next time Ryan met a maid as he was walking through the corridors, the woman bowed low with a mumbled ‘Your majesty…’ and Ryan, flabbergasted, had to tell her he wasn’t a ‘majesty’ at all and please, _please_ don't ever bow to him ever again.

It took barely three days for everyone to conclude it was time to move Ryan’s stuff to their shared rooms. All five kings were happy to lend a hand.

Ryan didn’t have much as far as “stuff” went, and the whole thing could have been done very quickly if it hadn’t been for Gavin jumping everywhere like an excited puppy and generally getting in people’s way. In the end Ryan grabbed the lad and hugged him close to keep him from bothering people any further.

The following week, Ryan spent his time getting his bearings. He couldn’t quite understand his luck. This was a whole new territory, one he knew nothing about. The kings were helpful, never pushing him into anything, waiting for him to get comfortable, and generally treating him like a rabbit who might run away if they spooked it.

One evening as he lay in bed, Geoff linked their fingers together and Ryan felt him shift a little.

"What’s with your fingers?"

Ryan thinned his lips, unsure how much to say. Michael answered for him anyway.

"Edgar did it."

"Why? Why on earth would he want to burn your fingertips?"

Because it’s harder to make magic when your fingers are damaged, thought Ryan. Because magic runs through your whole body but your hands are the catalyst, and wounded hands mean danger for yourself and for everyone around you.

"Because he wanted to hurt me."

Geoff’s hand flexed around his. He was pulled into a hug and fell asleep with his head on Geoff’s shoulder.

Every day Ryan met people who seemed to think he’d been made royalty, and he had to correct them every time. He told the kings, hoping they could put a stop to this before the rumor spread too far.

"They think you’ve been made King, huh?" said Geoff thoughtfully, head cocked to the side.

"Apparently. I don’t know what Jack said…"

"Just that you were by our side," said Jack. "They drew their own conclusions."

"Let them," said Gavin. "You’ll be able to ask them to do whatever you want."

"And this is exactly why Gavin isn’t allowed to make important decisions," said Michael. "Ryan’s an honest man, you numbskull. He doesn’t manipulate people."

Ryan dropped his gaze. His hands were twisting together on his lap. If only Michael knew… well, if only Michael knew, then Ryan would be locked away, maybe killed. He would lose a love he’d only gained by lying.

He’d planned to dance this evening but he wasn’t feeling right. Most of the time he managed to forget about his own lie, but whenever he was reminded of it, it brought his spirits down and made him feel sluggish and pathetic. He knew he deserved it, feeling guilty was the price he paid for the life he lived.

He didn’t say anything to the boys and at the usual time he was dressed and poised to dance in the usual room, a whole orchestra behind him ready to play. The Kings came along and sat before him, smiles on their faces as always. Ryan lifted his hands in his starting pose and closed his eyes. He could do it, he could calm himself down.

A slight noise made his ears twitch. He opened his eyelids just a touch as the music started, the first notes of the melody filling the room. He looked up.

The massive chandelier just above Gavin and Geoff was oscillating. It was an old and heavy thing, hung up there for years and years. The music kept playing and the part where Ryan should have started dancing had passed. The orchestra noticed, the melody faltered a little. But the chandelier was still swinging, and the music was vibrating through the air and vibrating through the thin, worn ropes that tied it to the ceiling.

There was a ‘snap’ and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.

His arms were moving before he could think. An overwhelming power suddenly surged inside him, pushed by desperation until it burst out of him with enough force to make him stumble back. He had to fight to stay upright, pushing back against the force of his magic. The chandelier on its way down was stopped in the air, levitating above five shocked heads.

He barely heard the gasps around him and the orchestra all but dropping their instruments. His ears were roaring with the sound of blood rushing to his head. There was a confusion of noise and movements. Ryan’s arms were straining and his mind was slipping. That magic had been locked away for so long he could barely control it ; it was draining him, turning him inside-out, pouring out of him without any restraints. The air all around him was shivering as Ryan's powers moved through it with the force of a tornado and everyone was thrown off the feet.

"Ryan! Stop! You can stop we’re safe!" Geoff’s voice cut through the haze.

Like a bone breaking the magic streaming through Ryan stopped abruptly. His body and mind both seemed to snap. The giant chandelier crashed down with a noise that echoed against the walls and made the floor shake.

Then there was silence, Ryan’s panting breaths the only sound he could hear. He watched the kings before him as they painfully got back to their feet, all pale and shaky, eyes darting from the broken chandelier to Ryan, speechless.

Ryan’s legs were shaking so hard he wondered how he was still standing at all. He waited, for the penny to drop, for the men he loved to see how he had betrayed their trust, to banish him, or throw him in prison, or kill him. Whatever was going to happen once they found their wits back, it was the end of Ryan’s life.

He faced them all, ready for the sentence.

Geoff took a deep breath.

"All of you, I forbid you to tell anyone about this."

Ryan startled and looked behind him. He’d forgotten about the orchestra. Ten men and women were standing in shock and nodded numbly at the kings before hastily scampering out of the room.

A hand touched him and he jumped, almost stumbling over his own feet.

"Shhh, it’s okay," said Jack soothingly. "Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you collapse."

Just as guards, alerted by the noise, started pouring in and asking questions, Jack pulled Ryan after him and slipped out unseen.

Ryan lost track of what was happening. His eyes were closed before he could say anything, Jack’s voice kept shushing him and telling him everything was going to be all right.


	5. Chapter 5

"So that’s your big secret…"

Ryan was looking at his feet. Sitting in a living room, on a couch which had seen better days, he was picking at a hole in the upholstery as the five kings watched him.

He didn’t understand why he wasn’t dead yet. He’d been allowed to sleep for ten straight hours, then made to eat breakfast and now he was here.

"Aha! So that’s why you said you were a liar!" said Gavin, his eyes alight with sudden understanding. "I wondered where that came from…"

Geoff sniffed. “Eh. I knew it.”

"Bullshit," called Michael immediately. "You didn’t know shit."

"Yeah, I did. It’s easy, come on… You know those mountains? They’re in the South, Michael. There are no mountains in the West."

"… huh?"

"In the South. The mountains are what separate our Southern Colonies from the Southern Kingdom. D’uh."

"Where Mages live with ghosts," mused Ray.

"Ghosts don’t exist," said Ryan quietly.

"See?" said Geoff, triumphant.

"It’s just echoes."

That made Geoff frown. “What?”

"If a Mage dies suddenly sometimes they leave behind a magical print. It has their general appearance but it doesn’t do anything, it just floats around endlessly." Ryan paused a second before adding, "A lot of Mages were abruptly killed when Edgar came along."

"Okay, well, that’s disturbing," said Gavin.

"If you’re powerful enough, you can bring some corpses back to life and use them as a puppet for a few minutes…"

"Ryan, stop," implored Jack, and Ryan’s mouth snapped shut immediately.

"Yeah. That's freaky," said Ray. He was standing at behind the others, the farthest away from Ryan.

"Why did you feel like you had to hide this from us?" asked Geoff. "Why wait until we’re in danger before telling us?"

Ryan laughed humorlessly. “Even before Edgar arrived my people were treated like scum. I just… I just didn’t want you to…”

He didn’t finish but his meaning was understood.

"You thought we’d kill you if we knew?" said Michael.

"You really think that little of us?" asked Gavin. He sounded so hurt that Ryan wanted to erase his last words and swallow them back up.

"No!… I don’t know," he moaned. He put his head in his hands, confusion and despair crushing him. "It’s all I’ve ever known… all the time, no matter what we did, there was always someone ready to kill us. I don’t think I know how to react differently than with fear."

"Don’t say that," said Gavin, sounding as if his heart has just broken in two.

"Ryan," started Geoff, "I freed you once, it’s not to have you killed barely a year later. You remain free as ever and you are allowed to use your magic however and whenever you want."

"Really?" Ryan looked unconvinced, but Geoff didn't waver.

"I'm not scared of you, jackass. If I know my history, we did more damage to you guys than you ever did to us. You're allowed to do whatever you want, you don’t have to ask for permission, to walk on eggshells around us, to bridle yourself just to please us or to fear us in any way. I will forbid you officially if I have to. Make it a law."

""Ryan Haywood is henceforth forbidden to fear us'," intoned Michael loudly as if he were a town crier.

Ryan watched him, an eyebrow high on his forehead. “But… magic?”

"Magic’s awesome!" said Gavin, bouncing over to Ryan to sit by his side on the couch. "I haven’t seen any since I left the old country, and even there it's really rare. I’m so happy there are Mages left!"

"Well, there’s still one left," said Jack slowly. "As far as we know, Ryan might be the last one…"

"Way to fucking kill the mood, Jack," snapped Geoff.

"I’m only saying… If we want to allow him to use his magic as he wants we have to protect him. There are still people everywhere who fear and hate Mages, and if Ryan is the last one he’s going to shine like a beacon for all the nutjobs."

"We’ll take care of it," said Geoff with confidence. "I’ll go fucking take care of it right now. Nobody’s going to be persecuted in my Kingdom."

He put a hand on Ryan’s cheek and tilted his head up. Blue eyes looked into blue eyes and Geoff bent down and kissed Ryan on the lips.

"No more secrets," he said. "Take care of him guys, I have to go put some things straight."

"Wait, I’m coming!" said Jack, hastily running after Geoff. "You don’t know diplomacy!"

"I know everything there is to know about diplomacy! My father invented it!"

"Well he never fucking taught you. You’d start a war in three words!"

The door closed behind them and Ryan was alone with the younger kings, all three of them looking at him.

"What can you do with your magic?" asked Ray.

“Anything I want…," said Ryan hesitantly. "Or, I used to. Edgar’s shackles trapped my powers, I can barely feel it anymore. It’s been so long…”

"Ooooh..." said Michael. All the eyes turned towards him and he shrugged apologetically. "I just remembered. Those shackles felt fucking weird when I touched them."

"They were made centuries ago. The legend says it was to keep a dangerous Dark Mage in check... We had them under lock, but Edgar found them when he attacked."

"Dark Mages, you said?"

Ryan glanced at Ray, who had his arms crossed over his chest as if to protect himself.

"Yes," said Ryan carefully. "But I never saw one."

"Yeah, shut up Ray," said Michael curtly. "Are you... wait, are you fucking scared?"

Ray twisted his mouth. "No."

"Then shut up."

"You shut up," grumbled Ray petulantly. "Don't tell me you're totally okay with this, Michael. You know the facts as well as I do."

"What facts?" wondered Gavin.

Michael scowled defiantly, but he looked uncomfortable now.

"There was a war two hundred years ago," said Ray angrily, "between the people in the East and a couple of dark Mages. They were only two and they still managed to kill hundreds of people! Magic is just- it's just too big! People didn't just decide to hate Mages, they had incentives."

"Wait, what?" spluttered Gavin indignantly. "How many people do you think Edgar killed? As far as I know you don't need to be a Mage to be a murderous prick! You people almost eradicated Abuter's Mages, damn it, Ryan should be the one standing there and pointing fingers!"

Ray blinked at him, surprised by his outburst. Gavin rarely got angry, if ever, and neither did Ray. This was a first between these two. Ryan had stopped breathing, his eyes nervously going from Gavin to Ray and from Ray to Gavin.

"Point taken," said Ray very slowly, and Ryan took a relieved breath. "I'm sorry. It's just... you know. A lot of power in one man. It's a bit... scary..." He smiled shyly. "But I'm not scared of _Ryan_. I'm a battle-weary soldier, I can totally beat his ass."

Ryan snorted. "You probably can. It's not like I'm very powerful at the moment." He heard the bitterness in his own voice.

"I wonder where the shackles went..." said Michael.

"Who cares, we don't need them," said Gavin. "They've done enough damage."

"Not enough, apparently," mused Ryan quietly. "I still have some magic in me..."

"You know what I think?" Gavin jumped to his feet. "I think you need to practice."

"Yeah, so do I." Michael took Ryan by the hands and pulled until he was standing up. "Come on! I want to see you do magic stuff."

"But…"

"Yes! So do I," said Ray, helping Michael to steer Ryan out of the room.

Ryan couldn’t protest further as all three kings led him to the gardens.

**********

At first, to Geoff’s delight, the news went over pretty well.

Five days after it had been announced that Ryan could use magic, gifts from all over the world started coming in. If hatred of magic had been widespread, there had always been whole groups of people who worshipped it too, and these were happy to cover Ryan in all sorts of items now that the kings had made it clear it was allowed.

Those who weren’t happy about this turn of event mostly kept quiet. There had been this one guard who’d spat in Ryan’s face but he’d been sent to the dungeon immediately -and very publicly.

"When I said discrimination will not be tolerated," had bellowed Geoff in front of the entire Court that day, "I fucking meant it. Got it, dickheads?"

… And maybe Jack had a point about diplomacy.

Now Ryan was both adored and getting presents he obviously didn’t want, and hated in secret. The 'hated' part sometimes kept Geoff awake at night, but as long as it was kept on the down low he couldn't so anything about it.

When gifts finally stopped pouring in, they were almost filling up an entire room. Geoff had to force Ryan to go through it all so they could get rid of it.

"Just give it to people who need it…" mumbled Ryan. "I don't want it."

"At least take a look at it, you’ll choose what to do with whatever you find."

Ryan sighed and sat at the bottom of the huge pile, and started picking up things.

"What the hell is this…" he whispered ten minutes later, looking at a weird object made of bronze.

"That", said Michael with barely contained laughter, "is a gift from someone who thinks you should enjoy yourself more."

"What?"

“Enjoy yourself, Ryan.”

"Sex," supplied Ray helpfully. "It’s a sex thing."

Ryan immediately dropped the -now identified- dildo. “What? Seriously?!”

"Some people think magic is linked to sex," said Jack thoughtfully.

"Well it’s not," said Ryan with a grimace. "It’s just… moves…"

"Oh yeah?" said Michael, waggling his eyebrows. "Moves? Tell me more about your moves, Rye-bread."

The unimpressed look Ryan gave him made Michael smirk.

Ryan flicked his fingers. The dildo suddenly leaped off the floor on its own and hit Michael in the forehead.

"Ow! What the fuck!"

"There’s one of my moves," said simply Ryan.

"No magic flying dildos allowed!" moaned Michael, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "That hurts, you moron."

Ryan laughed. “Sorry. Come here.”

He kissed Michael’s brow gently.

It somehow turned into sex on the floor and Geoff couldn’t help but think bringing Ryan in their relationship might have been the best decision they’d ever made.

**********

Ryan had been reading an old grimoire when the door to the library slammed open and an irate-looking Geoff stomped over to him.

"I got a letter."

"And that makes you angry because... you like trees?"

"Don't be smart, Ryan. It's a letter from King Coal."

"Oh…"

The King of the Southern Kingdom. A man Ryan despised almost as much as Edgar himself.

"What does he say?"

"He’s requesting an audience. Apparently your existence is a threat to his Kingdom or some shit like that… We had to accept to see him. He’s gonna be here in a week. Listen to me." Geoff sat down angrily and looked Ryan straight in the eyes. "This asshole has spies everywhere. There could be one in this very castle. And he obviously has something against you."

"So?"

"So, you idiot, from now on you are not allowed to be alone."

"… Aren’t I?"

"If word gets out that the Southern King is ready to make a stand against magic, everyone who fears you won’t hesitate to show it anymore. All it takes is one person taking the first step and then everyone follows like sheep. So promise me you won’t stay alone."

"I’ll be careful," promised Ryan.

"Great!" Geoff stood up and took Ryan by the arm. "Let’s start now! You’re coming with me. I have to go talk to a few people who’ve been killing each over a patch of land or something… Jack usually handles that stuff but he’s with Michael talking to the guards right now. Gotta reinforce security, you know."

To be honest Ryan didn’t like this at all, but he didn’t want to argue the point when the King was so obviously stressed. He stood and, with a shake of the hand, made his book levitate and ordered it to follow him like a trained pet as he walked.

He already knew how a day in the life of the kings usually went. Dispensing justice, settling disputes, looking over the imports and exports, deciding which part of the Kingdom to send money to, keeping up with the neighboring Kingdoms (and keeping an eye on the South). He’d even helped a few times, happy to participate whenever he was asked his opinion.

But as he was now forced to be by their side constantly and asked to keep a low profile and be invisible, Ryan’s enthusiasm and interest for the Kingdom’s affairs dwindled. He did his best to stay out of the way -after all he understood the danger that hovered over his head. But it was so very, very boring.

He sat dejectedly in a corner of the room as he saw audience after audience, meeting after meeting, and the days stretched in time like a bowstring ready to snap. He’d tried to take a book to read but the room was usually too loud to focus on anything.

Thankfully, Ryan eventually found some friends. On the fourth day, a group of people came over with several children, little kids who thought there could be nothing more boring in the world than a bunch of adults talking about money and property. Ryan took it upon himself to amuse them.

The parents were far too busy arguing among themselves to pay much attention to their daughters and sons running after kittens and butterflies made of glowing dust that disappeared at the slightest touch. Wide eyes looked in wonder at the little splashes of magic Ryan tried to keep discreet, keeping his movements small and brief and easy to control.

"You have the sweetest magic ever," said Ray as he walked over, watching a small girl pick up colorful flowers that Ryan had just made sprout out of the stone floor.

Ryan shook his hand and a rose appeared between his fingers.

"That one’s really magic," he said, and Ray took it with a wide smile.

"I love you, dude."

"What are you doing?"

Ray and Ryan startled and looked as the parents of the little girl scooped her up in their arms, the father slapping the flowers out of her hands.

"Is something wrong?" asked Ray, stepping forward.

"It’s… it’s magic," said the father, almost spitting out the words.

"Yes?"

The commotion had attracted attention. By now all the eyes were watching them, the parents had all grabbed their kids and were watching anxiously.

"How can you allow this in your own castle! What has he done to my daughter?"

"It’s just flowers!" tried to defend Ray.

"How do you know? How can you trust this? It’s filth and sorcery, that’s all it is!"

"Shut the fuck up!" roared Michael.

He jumped out of his throne and got to the parents in two angry steps.

"Michael—" started Ryan.

"No, Ryan, shut up. You," he said, jabbing his finger in the father’s chest and keeping his voice low so the daughter wouldn’t hear, "you’re lucky your kid is here or you would already be locked up in the dungeon. You better run away from this castle right now before I change my mind."

Michael was extremely convincing. Everyone but the kings, Ryan and a few guards were out of the room in no time.

"Well, that could have gone better," sighed Jack after a brief silence.

"What! I couldn’t let that slide, could I?"

"No, Michael. But just… Ah, never mind. They deserved it, I guess. You all right, Ryan?"

"I’m fine." Ryan smiled softly. "I’m used to it."

"Shut up," ordered Michael. "It’s hard to change people’s opinion if you just keep lying down and accepting it, Ryan. Try standing up for yourself once or twice."

"I could just wait somewhere else while you deal with your people..."

"No. You’re with us, you stay with us. It’s not safe to be alone."

Ryan relented. If the kings were anything, they were stubborn as a rock. He stopped using his magic in public from now on, dooming all the kids who came here to painful boredom.

The end of the week arrived both too soon and not soon enough. Ryan watched the kings get more nervous every day ; they were on edge and so was he.

The Southern Kingdom was not officially an enemy, but they all knew there was no friendship between them. King Coal had never publicly shown sympathy for Edgar but he had never said anything against him either. There were rumors he’d offered weapons and men in exchange for crops and money. No scruples on that guy, a heart probably shrivelled by greed. Spineless but spiteful.

This meeting was going to be a show of force, a game of intimidation the five kings had to win if they wanted their authority to be respected -and if they wanted Ryan to remain free.


	6. Chapter 6

The moment King Coal entered the throne room followed by an unnecessary fleet of fifteen of his guards, his eyes searched the room until they fell on Ryan standing quietly by Ray’s side.

Geoff greeted him politely, following all the protocols. The Southern King didn’t answer, eyes still on Ryan.

"Can he help you?" asked Jack a bit harshly.

"I think he can," said Coal. "He's the reason I'm here. My men have noticed certain changes around our shared border, King Jack."

"What changes?"

"I have heard about ghosts and magical creatures rising in the early morning mist. Walking along the border like guard dogs. It seems they’re watching us, and I don’t appreciate being watched."

"What are you talking about?" barked Geoff.

"Magic, King Geoff. I’m talking about magic, about your Mage making creatures spy on us and intimidate us!"

"Creatures?" scoffed Jack.

"Chimeras and birds," said Flynt Coal, eyes narrowing meanly.

"Chimeras!" laughed Ray. "Please. You just saw a big dog."

Michael joined him in laughing. "And birds? You're scared of birds?"

"That's not all! There are ghosts too!" bellowed King Coal.

"You’re crazy," sniggered Michael. "Ghosts don’t exist, do they Ryan?"

Ryan shook his head emphatically. Coal was fuming.

"Am I crazy? Am I really? Do I need to remind all of you that the last time Mages rebelled, my Kingdom was the first they targeted?"

"You attacked us first," blurted out Ryan.

King Coal flinched, and this show of cowardice only made Ryan angrier.

"The Southern Kingdom has always been the worst to us. Your family tried to eradicate us the moment we settled in the Colonies! You were so happy when Edgar mowed us down, weren't you?" Ryan took a step forward ; Coal took one backward. "I can’t control any magical creature. If I could, they would have attacked already and knocked your pathetic head off your pathetic shoulders."

"What?!" roared King Coal. "Are you seriously threatening me?"

"I am," said Ryan. Fire burned in him as he looked at that awful little man.

The fifteen guards tensed. Swords were suddenly twitching. Geoff grabbed Ryan and pulled him back behind him, both to protect him and stop him from saying anything else.

Jack walked in front of Ryan, a clear message that if anyone wanted to get to the Mage they would have to go through him first.

"If we had the power to make magical creatures rise from the mist, we’d use it for something else than to spy on your ridiculous Kingdom. What are they going to see? The rich having orgies and the poor dying of starvation? All the food we sent you last Winter being kept in your castle instead of distributed to the people as we asked? We already know about those, we don’t need magic."

"I—" started King Coal in outrage but Jack cut him off.

"You have nothing more to do here. Just know that if you keep abusing our generosity, we will take action. We won’t stand by useless cruelty. Now fuck off."

There was a frenzy as the five kings’ guards pushed away the Southern delegation and forced it out of the room.

Geoff turned to Jack. "Was that diplomacy?"

"He didn’t deserve it," grunted Jack. "I didn’t know Coal had attacked the Colonies," he added, looking at Ryan.

"That would be because your Kingdom was quite happy to let it happen," said Ryan. "Geoff’s family has never loved us either."

"No, I suppose they didn’t," sighed Geoff. "Damn, we really do have a lot to make up to you."

"It’s not you guys’ fault. It's not like my own ancestors have always been fair to yours. I don’t hold this whole mess against you."

"You should," said Michael. "Hey, you finally got angry! You were scary, man."

"Yeah…" Ryan's shoulders slumped. "See why I don’t usually get angry? I start wars…"

"You didn’t start anything," said Geoff, patting him reassuringly. "Nobody would dare defy us."

**********

Geoff was wrong.

Tensions kept building. Anti-magic propaganda, helped along by the Southern King’s spies starting rumors everywhere they could, spread like wildfire. It soon became very evident that everyone did not agree with the presence of a Mage in the castle, and that they didn't want to keep quiet anymore.

People in the streets whispered about Ryan and his uncontrollable magic, and about the supposedly magical creatures hiding in the fog, prowling, waiting to snatch the children out of their beds. They even talked about sorcery and potions that required dead baby parts that they were sure Ryan was brewing in his bedroom.

The younger kings seemed to think all of this was hilarious. Michael even bought him a cauldron.

"You can put it by the bedroom's window. People'll see it from outside and they'll lose their shit."

"Michael," said Geoff, "it's not funny."

"I think it's pretty funny," said Michael calmly. But Ryan agreed with Geoff.

He had found himself an empty room, forgotten in the east wing of the castle. It was absolutely bare from floor to ceiling and he’d decided to make it his secret practice room. Not for entertainment and dance, which he didn’t find time for anymore, but for magic.

With the five kings now too busy to keep track of him, Ryan kept slithering away and locking himself up in the room to spend his days sharpening his dulled skills. If he tried anything complicated, his smooth fingers kept misfiring and he had to concentrate twice as much to keep his magic steady.

He could feel himself getting more powerful but it could never be enough. He could always do better. He practiced every movement he could remember, he learned new ones from old books, until sweat was pouring off him and he almost fell over with exhaustion, and still it wasn’t enough. Rumors about him kept popping up, and with it came reports of unrest around the southern border, and all this madness was growing way faster than Ryan's powers were.

Hostilities eventually started to spread inside the castle itself. Jack had to fire several guards after they came to him with complaints about Ryan. The kings looked on as the threat of a civil war grew every day and tried their best to appease their people. But then... nothing they did seemed to work.

Ryan was curled up on the couch as they discussed the issue one evening. He was reading from a heavy book filled with arcane knowledge, only half-listening to what was being said, fatigue clouding his mind.

"More talks about supposedly magic birds," sighed Jack, reading one of many reports of unrest throughout the Kingdom. "'Large crows, black as despair. They sound like a damned soul crying for help.'," he quoted.

"Well, that's imaginative," said Michael, eyes running along a piece of paper. "More than what I'm reading. There's this crazy lady who thinks Ryan poisoned all her cats. As opposed to them dying because she doesn't know how to take care of them. Fucking asshole."

He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it in the fireplace. He had been throwing all the reports and letters he judged stupid in that fireplace, but since there was no fire, the papers simply piled up in the hearth.

Gavin was the only one not reading. He was hunched over the table, forehead against the wood and eyes closed.

"What are we going to do?" he asked pitifully. "We can't stop all this, can we?"

"I mean," started Ray, a hint of desperate hope in his voice, "surely there are still people who like us? Or at least people who are indifferent, right? We haven't lost everyone?"

"No," said Jack, "but that's the problem with indifference. It doesn't do anything. People who care are scared of showing it and people who don't care aren't going to help unless they get a wake-up call. And I'm not going to start a war just to get people to care."

"Yeah, that sounds mildly counter-productive," agreed Michael.

"You should make an example out of me."

All the heads turned towards Ryan. His eyes were on the book, but he wasn't really seeing it, too lost in his own thoughts.

"What's that?" asked Ray.

Ryan closed his book and set it down. He sat up on the couch, took a deep breath. "If you imprison me--"

"What?!" screamed out Michael, Gavin and Ray at the same time.

Ryan raised a hand to stop them. "If you imprison me, people would calm down a little bit. Show them that you've heard their complaints and they'll leave you alone."

"You're a lunatic," said Gavin, nonplussed.

"Look," Ryan added, seeing as the other kings were opening their mouths too, "Coal is having a blast right now. His plan is working, and if it keeps on working it won't be long before your own people revolt and you'll be chased out of your thrones. And then the Southern Kingdom will be able to swoop in and take control of Abuter without having to fight for it."

Jack shook his head. "Even if we calm our people down, when Coal realizes his plan isn't working he'll want to save face. Which means attacking us directly. He thinks we're a threat to his authority, he won't fucking drop everything and stop, Ryan."

"Yeah, I'm not seeing the positive here," said Ray.

"Maybe," said Ryan. "But if Coal does attack, it'll be easier to fight him off if your whole Kingdom is supporting you. You need to show your people you're on their side, or they'll look for someone else to lead them."

"But their side's the crazy side!" said Gavin. "You're not responsible for any of this shit!"

"Apparently the truth doesn't matter much."

"So what?" said Geoff angrily. "We just throw you in prison even though you're innocent? Tell the world that you're a criminal? Do you want to be whipped in public too, while we're at it?"

Ryan didn't say anything. Nobody did, for a while. Until Michael's voice rose slowly, hesitantly.

"What if we have something that would sort of... stop Ryan, but still lets him be with us?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jack.

"Well... remember those shackles?"

"They were destroyed."

"Not really... see, I noticed we'd sort of lost track of them, so I looked around, just to see if they had really been destroyed. And turns out they haven't, they're in a pile of old chains and stuff in the dungeon."

"How will it help?" asked Ray. "Nobody else knows it traps Ryan's powers."

"They'll feel it," said Ryan quietly.

"How so?"

"If you do it in public, they'll feel it when my powers will be trapped. Magic disturbs the air, it'll create a sort of wave around me. It's hard to describe, but... they'll get it."

Geoff looked like he was trying his hardest to contain his anger and frustration. "So you really do want to be punished in public."

"It's just... one option," said Ryan in a whisper.

"A shitty one. We're not going to do it."

A moody silence hung over the room, nobody really sure of what to say or do. Ryan lied back down on the couch, and, with a careful twirl of his mutilated fingers, made a large fire suddenly appear in the cold hearth. He watched the roaring flames swallow the pile of crumpled papers.

**********

A lot can go wrong in just a week. For example, whispers of planned rebellions reaching the five kings, civilians wearing weapons being spotted around the castle, and news of Abuter's unrest reaching the neighboring Kingdoms and freezing all the imports and exports. Meanwhile, armed soldiers had started showing up around the southern border, and reports about angry flying magical creatures kept coming in.

Now Geoff stood in the middle of the market place. Him and the four other kings, standing in a semi-circle around Ryan. Michael was holding the heavy shackles almost ceremonially.

The wooden platform under their feet allowed them to be seen by the crowd, but also to see every one of the three to four hundred people gathered here, looking up at them. Some of them looked angry. Some looked neutral or just curious. The ones that hurt Geoff the most though, were the ones who looked genuinely scared.

Ryan was extremely nervous. Ever since the decision had been taken he'd been quiet and subdued, barely saying a word at all. Geoff could see the resolve in his eyes though, and he hated it.

Geoff wasn't as blind as Ryan seemed to hope. He knew the Mage had been training in secret -and had gotten quite powerful. All this hard work was about to be crushed to hell. And the five kings, the ones who'd promised to protect him and his powers, were the ones who were about to break him again.

Still they stood before the crowd. Jack had made his little speech, all very neat and diplomatic. The people had stayed mostly silent, save for a few assholes who'd hooted their joy. And now Michael was holding the shackles, and Ryan was presenting his wrists. The patchwork of scars on his skin had been slowly fading away but it hadn't disappeared. It was still starkly visible, still discolored in places.

Geoff looked somewhere else as Michael brought the shackles around Ryan's wrists. He felt a bad taste in his mouth as he heard the heavy metal chain rattle, then a metallic click as the manacles were closed.

For half a second after that, nothing happened. Then Ryan made a little sound, and suddenly it felt as if all the air was rushing towards him. Geoff was almost blown away when the powerful wave of *something* flew past him with an audible whoosh, speeding towards Ryan.

It was over very quickly. Everything was back to normal almost as soon as it had started. But now everybody was completely silent. Geoff couldn't even hear birds singing or dogs barking in the distance. The atmosphere suddenly felt incomplete, as if something had been forcefully removed from it.

All the eyes were on Ryan, who had his head bowed and had brought his wrists against his chest. Michael was the first to recover.

"There," he said, and Geoff could hear the barely-contained anger in his voice. "I hope you're happy. The Mage has no powers to use on you anymore."

"Now if something bad happens to you," said Ray meanly, "you better believe it's not because of any sort of magic, but just because you're a scumbag and the world hates you."

"Thank you, Ray," said Jack quickly, grabbing the lad to pull him aside. He turned back to the crowd. "We listened to you. Now it's time you listened to us. With Ryan now shackled you will soon see the Southern King is lying to you. Mages are not the source of your problems. It's only a matter of time before Flynt Coal decides to attack us, and Abuter is too busy fighting with itself to prepare for war. We must be strong and united if we want to live in peace."

"Mull that over," added Gavin. He then turned on his heels and just walked off.

Michael and Jack each took one of Ryan's arms and guided him off the platform, hiding him from view. Geoff stayed, looking as the crowd dispersed, whispers running from one person to another.

**********

Ryan was lying on his back on a lonely single bed, in a lonely room far away from the kings.

Distancing himself from them seemed to be a good idea. It would help the people calm down, give them the opportunity to think about the situation instead of focusing all their worries and anger on magic... But it was amazingly lonely.

A brittle smile spread on Ryan's lips as he remembered how he used to shy away from the kings, hide and avoid them, and now spending an hour away from them made him uncomfortable.

His hands were flat by his sides and the chain was heavy on his stomach. His wrists were burning, the iron already eating at the skin. He had not been in those for a day and it was already painful as hell.

He could feel his magic bubbling under his skin, energy asking to be released. He'd been using it so much lately, stimulating his powers every single day ; it was going to take a while before it would recede and settle. And to say he'd been practicing because he'd hoped to help the kings... Trapped as he was, he was about as useful as a broom.

He rolled to his side, moving very slowly to spare his wrists. His eyes fell on a big book on the bedside table. Ryan grabbed it. He'd almot forgotten about it, but there was still one thing he could do to help the kings.


	7. Chapter 7

Boredom. Ray was bored. So very, very bored.

The whole castle felt like it was trapped under a glass dome. Outside, people were talking about Ryan's public shaming this morning ; letters were being sent to the four corners of the Kingdom, spreading the news around. But inside? Nothing. It looked like everyone was avoiding the kings until they'd decided whether to trust them or not. Even the guards, who were already a quiet bunch, had managed to get even quieter.

The five kings were sitting on their respective thrones, listening to Geoff's pageboy talking about... eh, something. Ray had lost track. The neighboring kingdoms hadn't hear about the whole shackles-debacle yet, so the boy had nothing interesting to report. And hours trickled by, and Ray was slowly melting into his throne...

There was a knock on the door and the page stopped talking. All the kings straightened up, eyes alight with hope. Finally, something to do!

"Come in," called Michael.

It was Ryan who entered, preceded by the sound of his chain clinking. He had a big book clutched against his chest.

"Ryan!" Geoff practically ran to him. He took hold of the chain, taking some of the weight off the Mage's wrists.

"You don't need to knock, you prick," said Gavin with a scowl. "You're allowed in here."

"I need to talk to you," said Ryan. "... my Kings," he added afterward, throwing a furtive glance at the guards.

Everyone winced. Ryan didn't look nor sound good. Way too weak to Ray's liking, as if these shackles were locking up his life force as well as his magic.

"Everyone, out," said Geoff immediately.

The page walked out without a word. The guards hesitated a moment before following him.

"Do you want the shackles off?" asked Gavin as soon as the door was closed again. "I have the key! I know exactly where I put it this time," he said sort of proudly, his hand already diving for the appropriate pocket.

"No, no," said Ryan. "Putting them on doesn't feel great, I'd rather not do it again. I need to get used to them."

Gavin grumbled but he took his hand out of his pocket.

"I'm not here to talk about it," said Ryan, flippantly brushing away everyone's concerns. He held out his book. "I've been reading these past few days."

"About?"

"Magical creatures."

Several eyebrows rose on several brows.

"Is there a reason for that?" asked Jack.

"Well... we keep hearing about disfigured black birds."

"Yes, because rumors are quick to infect people's brains," said Geoff. "There are no magical creatures anywhere, Ryan, there hasn't been magical creatures in this part of the world for centuries."

"That's the thing though," Ryan said avidly. "Those ones are new."

He opened the book and showed it to Geoff, who was still holding the chain up. Whatever was written on the page made Geoff frown.

"I can't read that, Ryan. What language is this?"

Ryan took his book back. "It's not really a language, it's just a writing system. Mages wanted to keep their knowledge mostly secret, you see, so they invented a whole new alphabet so nobody else could read their stuff."

"And what does your writing system say?"

"Well... this whole book is about omens and portents -basically, how to recognize a bad presage and how to avoid curses. It's very old magic. Remember what I told you about ghosts?"

"That they don't exist, it's echoes."

"Not in the way you think about them, no. But it's written here -the echoes of living Mages can apparently become... black birds."

"You're kidding?" said Ray.

"It says here," Ryan said, showing a passage in the book -and Ray squinted at it to try to understand the odd squiggly lines-, "that those birds are 'big as the largest crows, black as the pits of Hell. Their feathers are melted and their cries will terrorize you'." Ryan looked Geoff in the eyes. "They're wronged souls who have been waiting for so long that they've taken a physical form. They're looking for revenge."

"...That's happy," mumbled Michael.

"That's what everyone who saw magical birds described."

"So you think the thing about birds is real," said Jack, "and they're trying to attack Coal?"

"It's good news for us, isn't it," shrugged Ray.

"Yeah... I don't know if they'll really distinguish between the Southern Kingdom and Abuter," said Ryan. "It's not like your people ever treated us with respect..." he finished sheepishly.

Geoff took the book out of Ryan's hands and tried to read a few lines, before giving up and closing it loudly. "Well. Even if they exist, they're not doing anything. We don't need to worry about them for now -especially not you. You focus on keeping a low profile and we'll deal with everything else. How are your wrists?"

Ryan rubbed his hands uncomfortably. "Fine," he lied. "You'll be careful, right? These birds are fuelled by vengeance, they will attack anyone they judge responsible for their fate. You have to look out for them."

"Right," said Michael sarcastically. "Because it's so easy to avoid birds."

Ryan slumped a little and Michael immediately looked remorseful.

"We'll be careful, Ryan," he said. "It's not like we've planned to go to the South tomorrow, anyway. Coal's still keeping his distances for now..."

"Ray," called Geoff, "can you get Ryan back to his room?"

"I can walk," grumbled Ryan.

"I know. It's just for my personal peace of mind."

Ray stood up and stretched. "I'm happy to do it."

"I'm coming," said Gavin, running over to them. "I need to move before I go crazy!"

The corridors outside were quiet. No surprise there. They walked past a few guards who seemed to be heading for the throne room. They were whispering, but as soon as they saw the kings and Ryan they shut up immediately. Ray sighed heavily. Gossiping guards was never a good sign.

"What about chimeras?" asked Gavin all of a sudden.

"Hmm?" Ryan was too busy trying to hold his chain up while keeping the big book open so he could read while walking.

Ray snatched the book from him, annoyed to see him struggle like that. "Gavin's wondering if you believe chimeras are real."

"I don't think so. I've never heard of chimeras... it's not like the South is filled with magical creatures. I never saw any."

They walked in silence for a few more steps.

"How old were you when Edgar... you know...?" asked Gavin after a while.

"He attacked when I was around twelve years old," said Ryan without missing a beat. "But my grandfather and I fled and hid for years. I think I was... twenty-five when I was caught... I don't really know. I lost track of time after a while."

A small noise behind them made Ray's ears twitch. He frowned slightly and slowed his pace, though he kept walking. Another noise and Ray reacted immediately. He threw himself at Ryan and they both landed painfully on the floor just as a knife flew over their heads. It hit the wall and clanged on the floor.

"What the hell!" screamed Gavin, whirling around to face their attacker with his arms raised in self-defence.

Ray looked up. Two guards, one of them with his hand still extended from throwing the knife. But he didn't stay like this for long ; he drew out his sword, and his friend did the same. Ray quickly got to his knees, his hands flying to his side on instinct, but he felt nothing. Shit. He didn't have his sword and neither did Gavin.

"What are you doing!" yelled Gavin. "You're mental!"

Ray got back up and stood in front of Ryan. "We are your Kings!"

"You are not," said one of the guards. "Not since you decided to associate with sorcery and black magic."

"You idiots!" was Gavin's witty response.

Apparently it didn't please the guards. They charged.

"Woah, shit!" screamed Gavin, but Ray didn't see what he was doing because two more guards had appeared at the other end of the corridor and were running at them too, and judging by their expression, they weren't here to help.

Ray didn't know what to do. He stayed where he was, with a leg either side of Ryan who was still sprawled on the ground, watching as swords ran towards him. He had no weapon. He couldn't move and leave Ryan without protection. But he had. No. Weapon.

There was a clank and one of the guards fell down with a yelp. It took Ray a second to realize Ryan had used his chain to make the guy trip.

Ray all but jumped on the guard's hand, putting his whole weight on the wrist until he dropped his sword. Ray quickly grabbed it and turned around just in time to block the other guard trying to get to Ryan.

Blood trickled down the blade as the guard fell to his knees, then slumped over onto Ryan. Ray looked around in panic.

"Gavin! Gav--Oh."

Well. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to see, but the knife-throwing guard on his knees, with Gavin looming over him with what looked like knitting needles -very pointy knitting needles- held between his knuckles and pressing against the guard's throat, wasn't it. He even had one between his teeth. He looked like a serial killer who'd taken his grandma's knitting lessons the wrong way.

The second guard was lying on the floor with one such needle through his neck. Gavin looked up when Ray called him, and Ray could have sworn he was smiling.

"'e u'ul 'o 'a 'any 'ock," he said.

Ray walked to him and took the needle out of his mouth.

"What?"

"It's useful to have many pockets," repeated Gavin. "You always have a weapon on you even if you don't look like it."

"How the hell do you stuff this in your pockets and don't impale yourself? You trip on your own feet thrice a day!"

"I'm not that stupid, I only put them in my pockets when I think they'll be useful. Like today. A lot of people were being awfully shifty around us, you know?"

The sound of Ryan's chain made them both look back. The Mage had pushed the guard's corpse off of him, but he was covered in fresh blood. Ray winced.

"I'm sorry, dude."

"Not your fault," mumbled Ryan feebly.

"You all right?" Ray helped him up and retrieved his book from where it had fallen, thankfully in a blood-free place.

The guard at Gavin's mercy was trembling like a leaf. Gavin had a mean smile.

"You forgot we were soldiers too, didn't you?" he sneered. "We've fought bigger and meaner than you. We're not defenseless and we're not bloody scared."

"But we don't take kindly to people attacking us, defenseless or not," said Ray. "Is your hatred of magic really that powerful that you can't talk to us?"

"You aren't listening to us," said the guard between clenched teeth. "You keep parading around with filthy Mages, you imposed magic on this Kingdom without asking your people."

Ray felt Ryan stiffen by his side. But before anyone could say anything more, voices echoed somewhere in the castle. Ray looked around nervously. Were there more guards?

"RAY! Gavin!! Ryan!"

"Oh thank fuck," breathed Ray.

Geoff, Jack and Michael were running towards them. Ray frowned as he recognized a guard's sword in Geoff's hands.

"See!" said Michael. "I told you they got attacked too!"

"They're all right..."

Ryan and Ray were engulfed in Jack's embrace as Michael ran over to Gavin to check up on him. Geoff, on the other hand, didn't go to hug anyone. He walked in a straight line towards the kneeling guard, and pierced through his heart without saying a word.

Gavin jumped back as the guard fell down, gurgling and dying. "Ugh. Disgusting."

"I know," growled Geoff, but he wasn't talking about the blood. The expression on his face, as he looked at the dead men at his feet, was pure loathing. "Is Ryan all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Then everyone, come with me."

Ray exchanged a look with Ryan and shrugged. Geoff was in one of his moods. It was understandable, though. Ray didn't really do "angry" ; as far as he was concerned it was a useless emotion and if there was a point to it, he never saw it. Except now. Oh yes, he saw the point very clearly right now.

Geoff lead them back to the throne room, which was decorated with four more dead guards. A second later, the pageboy ran in, accompanied by the whole fucking Royal Guard.

Around fifty men and women entered the room and Ray twitched a little. They were all armed, of course, and upon seeing the corpses on the floor their hands moved towards their sword in anticipation. But most of them looked completely confused.

Geoff stood before all of them.

"Nobody," he said, slowly, as if to make sure everyone was hearing him, "is going to be persecuted in my Kingdom." He marked a pause. The guards didn't even look like they were breathing. "We've been trying to deal with this shit calmly. Abuter is threatened and all you fucks want to do is kill us? You don't have anything else to fucking think about? Ryan is not the problem, here!"

A lone voice rose from the back of the crowd. "How do you explain the creatures in the South!" it yelled out.

To everyone's surprise, it was Ryan who answered. Ray watched, befuddled, as the Mage brought his hands up, showing off his shackles which gave a sinister 'clank'.

"Look. Do you want to touch them? Do you want to feel how they suck all your energy out until there's nothing left in you? With these things around my wrists I can't summon a worm. The guards have decided to attack me when I'm at my weakest, knowing that I can't wield a sword and that the Kings were unarmed, and you think I'm the bad guy? Your Kings have listened to you, they've put me in chains and dealt fairly with all your complaints. Edgar almost destroyed this Kingdom ; the five Kings have worked hard to put it back on its feet. Why would they suddenly want to destroy it?"

Silence answered his words. Ray had to fight against a smirk trying to quirk his lips as pride bubbled in his chest. The Mage had come a long way since the first time they'd met him, a scared and diminished slave who would bend over at the slightest insult.

Geoff started talking again. "I won't be calm anymore. If people have decided that this can only end in death, so be it. The next person to attack us will be killed. And the next, and the next. If words can't pierce your thick fucking skulls, swords can."

The guards were still silent, but now they were also holding their breaths. Apparently a lot of them had sort of forgotten that the five kings before them had once won against an entire castle. They weren't soft, and they weren't going to go down easily.

Jack stepped up. "If there are others among you who don't want to serve us anymore, you're free to leave. You don't even need to tell us ; leave tonight and never come back here. Just make sure to never cross our path ever again."

The Royal Guard was dismissed. Ray watched them leave, one by one, trying to see something on their face that would tell him what they were thinking.

The doors closed. Michael prodded a corpse with his foot.

"We need to stop killing people in this room," he grumbled. "It's ruining the decor."

*******

Ryan slept for twelve hours.

He vaguely remembered being woken up by Gavin who came to check to check on him once the kings noticed his absence, but he'd been too tired to really pay attention.

He knew it would take some time to get used to the shackles again, but this was way harder than what he'd imagined. And with all the... excitement... of the previous night, Ryan felt like he'd used all his energy for the next five years.

When his mind finally landed back into the land of the living, it was past lunch time -which was just as well since he wasn't hungry. His shackles weighed thousands of pounds as he sat up and left his bed.

He wondered if it was safe to leave his room. A confused noise was filtering through his door. Curiosity made him walk closer and put an ear against the wood, but it didn't really help. He cracked the door open. Just an inch. Just to see.

There were three maids in the corridor and they all immediately stopped talking and stood still as a stone. They looked like Ryan had caught them stealing something.

Until one of them curtseyed, and then ran away. Another one bowed, low, and said, "We were wondering if we could clean your room, sir. You have moved here quite suddenly and we haven't had the time to make it comfortable."

Ryan blinked at her. "I... it's fine... I mean... please don't bow."

The maid straightened up and smiled. "Can we still take a look? It's the least we can do."

"I guess..." Ryan stepped aside. "Wait. The least you can do for what?"

"Rye-bread!"

Michael was walking down the corridor, sword on his belt, followed by the maid who'd ran off a minute earlier. She bowed to Ryan and followed her colleagues inside the room.

"Michael... what's happening?" asked Ryan.

"What? They're doing their job, and doing it well."

"But they're bowing. And fetching you. Why did she fetch you?"

Michael smiled fondly. "You can be really dumb when you want to. Come on, everyone's waiting for you. How're your wrists?"

Hurting like hell, thought Ryan, but he kept quiet.

Things kept getting weirder. He met a couple of guards and, though his first instinct was to walk closer to Michael and his sword, they, too, bowed to him -not to Michael, but to him- until he told them to stop.

Inside the throne room there wasn't a single guard, but like Michael the four remaining kings had their sword on their belts.

"Hey, Ryan!" greeted Gavin happily, who even had his bow and arrow on his shoulder and one of his needles poking out of his breast pocket. "You know, you're really good at talking!"

"What?" said Ryan. "I don't... has everyone gone mad last night? What is happening?"

Geoff looked at Michael. "You haven't told him?"

"He's funny when he's confused," laughed Michael.

"I hate you. Ryan, it looks like what we've told people yesterday worked its charm."

"What?" said Ryan. "That we'd kill them if they tried to kill us?"

"No. Well, I guess it played a part in it too. But mostly the thing about you not being a threat and that they are being fucking stupid."

"Yeah," said Gavin, "so a few guards came to us in this morning and told us they personally took care of weeding out everyone who was working in this castle who had something against you, and apparently people outside heard of this. And turns out you have a lot of supporters, really, and now we have a buttload of people saying they don't mind you!"

Ryan barked out a surprised laugh. "They 'don't mind me'? Well, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me..."

"The point is," said Jack, "that it looks like those who don't fear magic have finally decided to stop letting magic-haters walk all over them. They got their wake-up call."

"Partially thanks to you," said Ray. "That little speech you made yesterday, it struck a chord with the guards."

"And that's why I said you're good at talking," said Gavin.

Ryan looked at them one after the other. His eyes settled on Geoff.

"It's like you said, then. It only takes one person, and everyone else follows."

Geoff's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Did I really say that?" Ryan nodded and Geoff smiled. "I'm so fucking clever."

"We still have to stay alert," said Jack. "But... it's a start."

The doors suddenly banged open, and Geoff's pageboy ran in, panicked. Ryan closed his eyes. Of course. He was never allowed to be happy for any lengthy period of time. Here came troubles.

"My Kings," panted the page. "Villages in the South have been attacked. King Coal sent a messenger and he's blaming it on magical creatures -he says he saw them with his own eyes."

"Survivors?" asked Geoff immediately.

"A few. I haven't heard anything more."

"Fuck... Call every advisor you can find. Tell them we're meeting them in ten minutes."

The page nodded and ran out.

"Damn," mumbled Michael in the tense silence that followed. "I didn't know non-existing chimeras could do that much damage…"

"Not funny, Michael," snapped Geoff.

"I wasn't trying to be. It's all going to smear Ryan's reputation even more, isn't it..."

"What do we do?" asked Gavin meekly.

"We can’t let it slide," growled Geoff. "This is a declaration of war."

Jack nodded gravely, while the younger kings simply looked dumbfounded. Ryan felt like a whole bucket of ice had been poured over his head.

"Coal knows what he's done," said Geoff. "We’ll send help to the village he attacked, then send a messenger to the Southern Kingdom. I want Flynt Coal to know that we are watching his slightest moves. Ryan?" He turned toward the Mage who was standing paralyzed in the corner. "Ryan, you go back to your room and lock the door. Don't open for anyone but us."

Ryan nodded dumbly, and watched as the five kings poured out of the room and walked toward a war council.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was a blur, a whirlwind of activity, and Ryan was watching it all happen like he would read about it in a book.

Sitting in his room, he felt as if, somehow, the world was descending into chaos and had forgotten about him along the way. As if humanity had decided to remove him from its story. He watched the as the Kingdom readied for war, and he stayed perfectly still, unable to do anything.

The kings were too busy to visit him. Ryan even wondered if they remembered he was there at all. He burned to help them, to relieve the pressure that must have been pushing on their shoulders, but what could he do...? He would only drag his chain around and get in important people's way.

The window in his bedroom allowed him to see the drawbridge and anyone coming in or out of the castle. He watched new horses come in ; sanguine and muscular, clearly bred for battle. He watched new weapons and armors being delivered. And he watched survivors as they came to see the kings, small groups of lost people coming to seek refuge and help after Coal walked over their villages in the south.

It wasn't long before Abuter had to send hundreds of soldiers, loyal men and women Ryan watched walk away with a heavy heart. The conflict was growing fast, and the kings couldn't stay away from the battlefield forever. Ryan dreaded the day he would watch these five silhouettes get on their horses and walk over the drawbridge, maybe for the last time.

One evening, a feeble knock on his door was followed by Gavin entering his bedroom. The brief feeling of joy Ryan felt at the sight of the young king was quickly replaced by apprehension when he saw the sad green eyes.

"What's up?" asked Ryan, trying to sound a bit happier than he was.

Gavin didn't say anything. He sat on the bed and held up his hand to show the rusty iron key it was holding.

"Geoff says you'll need to be able to protect yourself while we're gone," he said in a small voice.

Ryan met his gaze and silently offered his wrists.

The shackles fell on the bed, and the whole room seemed to shiver. Ryan's skin was prickling and tingling all over. He flexed his fingers a couple of time, feeling magic run through his veins like blood through a limb after it fell asleep.

Before he could rub his aching wrists, Gavin had taken his hands and pulled him out of his room, and all through the castle until they reached the kings' bedroom.

Michael bandaged his wrists. Nobody said anything. Ryan spent the night nestled between five bodies, hugging whoever was closest to him, and wishing he could never let go.

******

The kings were putting on heavy armor. Ryan hadn't seen them like this since the day they'd attacked Edgar. Metal shining in the light and thick leather strapped to their limbs, swords sharpened by their side. Ryan felt himself break inside.

"Why can’t I come with you?"

"Well, I don’t know," said Geoff, adjusting his helmet. "Maybe because you barely know how to hold a sword."

"I have magic! You ought to know this by now! I practiced, Geoff."

"You were still shackled yesterday! You’ll fall over if you try to do too big too soon. You've already proved you're a self-sacrificing idiot with no idea of when to stop. We don’t need you to die trying to help us. I forbid you to come with us, got it?"

"And your magic’s so sweet," said Ray with a smile. "I don’t want it to become… not sweet." He pushed himself on tippy-toes to put a kiss on Ryan's lips. "Keep making roses Ryan."

But Ryan wasn't finished. "What about the birds? If I come with you maybe they won't attack--"

"Aren't these birds hypothetical?" said Jack. "All you have is a description in an old book and a few rumors."

"And to be honest I'm less worried about beaks than I am about swords," said Michael with a shrug.

"We’ll be back," promised Gavin. "We’re the best warriors in the world. We took down a whole bloody castle by ourselves! I’m not scared!"

Ryan grabbed him and hugged him close. His metal chestplate was cold and hard against him.

"Please be very scared. If anything tries to get you, you just run away."

"Dude," said Gavin, mouth smothered by Ryan’s shirt, "I’m going there to stop the fighting, not to run away from everyone screaming like a little girl."

Ryan went outside with them, silently watching as their mounted their armored horses and were joined by yet another troop of soldiers. Geoff gave the order to go.

The thunderous noise of hundreds of hooves hitting the ground slowly faded away.

Ryan was left alone.

******

It was raining over the camp.

It had been raining for five days straight. The earth under their feet was turning to mud, a sludge that stuck to their boots and splashed in their face with each step.

"It’s fitting," mumbled Ray. He was sitting on a log, idly spinning a dead rose between his fingers.

"Yeah," said Michael, sitting by his side. He was eyeing a great big ugly crow standing on a rock a few feet away. Some of its feathers were missing. "I guess a bright shining sun would kind of clash with the mood."

Everything was mostly silent in the camp save for hushed conversations and the sound of weapons being sharpened.

The crow had blue eyes. Just like all the other crows Michael had seen around here. Weird fucking things, they looked as if they had flown through Hell. But they were all very quiet, as if they didn't want to disturb the pregnant atmosphere that had swallowed the whole camp. And they didn't do anything, except flying a bit and sometimes staring at people until it got uncomfortable. If those were the nightmarish birds everyone was complaining about, then Michael didn't have the same definition of "nightmare".

"I hate that silence before the storm bullshit," groaned Michael. "Give me the fucking storm, get it over with. What’s that bastard waiting for?"

"No idea," shrugged Ray. "Gathering his troops, maybe?"

"I don't get why we don't attack instead. We'd get the element of surprise!"

"Because Geoff’s trying to minimize the damage and reason with Coal."

"As if that was gonna work…"

"Yeah. I think he’s been following Jack’s diplomacy lessons a bit too closely."

Michael twiddled with his sword for a minute. The crow stretched out its ugly wings and flew off.

"Where's Gavin?"

"Reading Ryan's book."

"What book?"

"Dunno. One of those with the weird Mage language."

"What?! He can read it?"

"I really don't think so."

The striking sound of a horn broke the stillness. Hushed conversations became shouts and screams as all the soldiers hastened to pick up their weapons and run to the front line.

"Shit," swore Michael, jumping to his feet.

"Here’s your storm," said Ray.

"I take it back I don’t want it!"

"Come on!"

They ran to the battlefield, and the battlefield ran at them. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late lateness of this chapter. I really do. I really, really do. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

On horses and on foot enemy soldiers were already charging. Michael didn't lose any time. He swung his sword and it clanged against metal, the sound lost in the chaos erupting around him. It felt like the world was exploding.

Arrows rained down, pinging off his helmet and narrowly missing his eyes. Rain blurred his vision, he could barely see who was friend and who was foe. A sea of people was suddenly surrounding him and pushing him every which way.

With every blow on his armor and every weapon blocked with his sword, Michael knew he was only narrowly avoiding death. Too many people around him were dying already.

A strike on his back sent him face-first to the ground. He rolled onto his back and held up his sword just in time to block the axe aiming for his chest.

"Fuck. Off!" he groaned. The guy above him was twice his size and his strength was crushing Michael’s arms.

Tanned hands suddenly grabbed Michael’s assailant by the neck and a sharp arrow lodged itself in his neck. The man fell over and revealed Gavin, standing there with a bloody arrow in his hand.

He quickly pulled Michael to his feet and the both of them stood back-to-back.

"You forgot your bow or what?" shouted Michael.

"A good archer forgoes his bow and throws arrows by hand."

And to demonstrate Gavin threw the arrow in his hand and sent it through an opponent’s arm. Michael could see the practice he got with his weird needles was paying off.

A wall of men ran at them and hit them both, pushing them into the ground. Feet stomped all over Michael, kicked his arm and he lost his sword. He scrambled in the mud, hands and knees sinking in and fear clutching his throat. A hand grabbed him and tugged him away from the stampede.

"Michael!" shouted Geoff’s voice. "Get up!"

He did, legs shaking and eyes swimming. Geoff’s hand on his elbow held him steady.

"Don’t fall you idiot!"

"I didn’t do it on fucking purpose!"

Geoff shoved a sword in his hands and a second later he had disappeared.

In the middle of the deafening noise of swords clashing and men screaming, another sound joined the fray. A high-pitched shriek that made Michael stop and look up at the sky, wondering if he was hearing the end of the world.

A crow was flying above his head. It opened its mouth and shrieked again, and the noise sunk in Michael's bones and made them tremble. It sounded like hell was trying to pass a message to the mortal world, to tell them they were all going to die. And, fuck, Michael suddenly wished he could grab the other four kings, run back to the castle and jump into Ryan's arms and ask him to forgive him for his cowardice. He just wanted to run away from this horrible fucking place overrun with memories of death and stupid battles.

But even this horrible shriek wasn't enough to stop a war. The men and women filled with an odd mix of will to survive and will to run at death with their teeth bared and their sword at the ready didn't stop fighting, and it took a slash against his arm for Michael to realize the world was still turning while he was looking at that god damned bird.

The fucker in front of him had cut deep and it hurt like hell. Michael lifted his sword to stop a second attempt at cutting him in half and the bird shrieked again, and this time ten other birds answered.

Michael gritted his teeth. He couldn't look up as the enemy soldier in front of him was doing his best to make minced meat out of him. Something heavy hit the back of his head and he half-stumbled, almost falling into his enemy's arms. He saw a flash of dark feathers before the shriek exploded somewhere way too close to his ears.

It seemed his head was breaking in half. Something hit his helmet again and he understood way too late the birds were trying to fucking pierce through his armor to get to him. Small mercies, these birds were also attacking the other side and Michael, wincing through tears, could finally kill the soldier in front of him while he was busy trying to push a massive crow away from his face.

In the same movement Michael tried to get the cursed bird but it flew out of reach. It turned around and came back down aiming straight for Michael's face. He raised his sword but something hit the bird before it could reach him. It fell like a rock and Michael had just the time to see a thin metallic needle buried into its flank before he had to avoid a sword coming for his neck.

Another bird came at him. This one took him by surprise and Michael didn't react before he felt the claws, sharper than a sword, close around his wounded arm. He screamed and fell to his knees, and the more he screamed the more the bird's feet were tightening their hold on him. An enemy soldier saw his chance, Michael watched the shine of the metal running towards him.

A sudden, a low rumble ran through the ground. Loud enough to be heard by most, strong enough to be felt by all. It was coming from deep inside the earth, making the mud itself tremble like jelly.

The bird latched onto his arm suddenly released Michael and flew off, without another look or another agonizing shriek.

Michael fell into the thick mud. He lay on his back, chest heaving and arm bleeding, and looked up at the sky. It was grey and spotted with black, disfigured hell-birds flying in bulk like feathery clouds. The earth under him was still wobbling.

As the odd sensation spread under their feet people stumbled and stopped running. Half the battlefield stilled and looked down as if expecting to see something burst out of the earth and swallow them whole.

In the middle of the grey sky and the brown mud suddenly appeared a flash of light so bright it blinded everyone for a second.

"Holy SHIT!" he heard Ray scream somewhere close.

Michael rolled on his stomach and pushed himself up, trying to ignore his burning arm. He had to put a hand up to protect his eyes as he squinted, trying to see where the fuck this light was coming from.

A horse was running through the troops, men scrambling to get away from it as it tore across the battlefield without stopping for anyone. This was what was making the earth tremble in its breeches : each of the horse's steps echoed in the ground as if the animal weighed several tons. The bright light came from the rider ; arm reaching up to the sky, he held in his palm what looked like a small sun.

Michael heard shouts and he heard swords clashing but neither the horse nor his rider seemed fazed in the slightest. As the horse approached Michael recognized the brown and white pattern on its fur and he felt his jaw drop.

"Hunter?!"

He tried to elbow himself a path through the frenzied crowd but he couldn’t do much before Ryan stopped his horse.

The earth stilled. Ryan’s blue eyes scanned the men and women around him until they found Geoff, then Jack, Ray, Gavin. When he looked at Michael, the soldier could only gape at him. He could have sworn Ryan was smiling to see him so gobsmacked.

"It’s the Mage!" screamed someone from the opposing army. "Get him! You have to get him, he's with the birds!!"

A hundred soldiers answered in agreement. But before anyone could even move, a ripple of energy ran through the air and the soldiers all around Hunter were sent flying away -Michael had to step aside to avoid being crushed by one of them.

The crows seemed to be gathering above Ryan's head, flying in circles. He hopped off his horse. The light turned off and Michael lost him... not for long though. People started flying through the air again as if they’d been thrown by a catapult. It was almost comical to see.

"Get him!!" shouted someone.

Michael gripped his sword and charged. He managed to strike some knees, stopping some of the madness trying to get to the Mage. The earth rumbled again and suddenly all the horrible birds dove back down -this time all of them were aiming straight for Ryan.

Michael cried out as the Mage was swallowed in a tornado of crooked souls and he doubled his efforts to get to him. Had something gone wrong, hadn't the birds recognized Ryan as one of their own? Or maybe they were too far gone to care and just wanted to kill anyone who looked human. Michael had a chestpiece to protect his heart, Ryan did not. Those sharp claws would go through his chest like a knife through melted butter.

A hand grabbed his wrist. Michael turned around wildly, and almost running Jack through with his sword.

"What are you doing!" he shouted.

"Michael, look!"

Michael, heart in his throat, looked. The dark tornado around Ryan was still horrifying to see. But then.. He saw a little shimmer of light filter through a gap in all these feathers. It was a very faint light, slightly blue, slightly shimmering. And it was growing.

It was wrapping itself around the black feathers, one by one. Into the blue-ish light they were dissolving like ink in water. Until one wisp of light seemed to break off from the rest of it, and it drifted off towards an enemy soldier.

Another wisp joined the first, then another, and another. Soon there were hundreds of them, balls of grey-blue lights moving through the crowd of soldiers who had all stopped to watch what was happening.

Michael heard a scream his terror. He thought it was just someone being scared of magic, but then he saw it -the wisps of light were taking a human form. One of them was a young woman, long curly hair floating around her, her blank eyes looking ahead as if she wasn't seeing anything. She was grey and moved like she was being blown by the wind, and she was utterly silent. Looking at her made Michael's whole body turn to ice.

The grey silhouettes were all going to a soldier of the Souther Kingdom, and soon, screams of terrors were all Michael could hear. When the last lick of light broke away from Ryan, there wasn't a single black bird left but the battlefield was overrun by ghosts.

"Magic," said Jack simply -although he had to scream to be heard over the confusion surrounding them.

"Thanks, I noticed."

A whooshing noise sounded, and suddenly there were fireballs thrown around. Michael yelped in surprise as one of them flew past him a little too close for comfort, but it didn't touch him at all. They were aiming for the enemies, and they were setting even their metal armors on fire as if they were nothing more than dried wood.

Little by little, the battlefield around Abuter soldiers was clearing up as the Southern army was being chased, screaming, by fire and ghosts, back towards their own camp.

Then Michael could finally see Ryan again. Standing alone in the middle between the two factions, he was dancing, naked feet in the mud, a thin carpet of black feathers lying around him. With each of his movements something new happened ; fire balls, a wind that knocked people off their feet, earth trembling and ghosts charging at soldiers to scare them half to death. It was like watching a conductor direct an orchestra, except Ryan's dance was directing the very fabric of reality.

Then Ryan stopped abruptly, and everything stopped with him. The ghosts vanished, the earth stilled, the fires died.

For a second, even time stood still. The sudden silence made Michael dizzy. Ryan took a deep breath and slowly spread out his arms like wings. And the dead woke up.

Michael almost had a heart attack when the cadaver under his feet, one of Coal's soldiers, twitched and opened its eyes. Limbs stiff and awkward, an army of dead men stood up, and with broken bodies and limping legs they started walking towards Ryan, lumbering in the mud. It was only seconds before a wall of corpses was formed in front of the Mage, facing the enemy troops with glassy eyes.

"Geoff!" shouted Ryan in the utter silence, one side too stunned to move and the other struck by terror.

Geoff tore himself from the rest of his men and ran to him. They talked, Michael couldn’t hear them. Ryan was starting to shake and his skin was glimmering with sweat.

They finished talking and Geoff jumped on Hunter’s back so he could be seen over the wall of dead people walking.

"Flynt!" he shouted. "This is a warning : if you do not give up right now, if you don’t surrender to us, Ryan here will send all your deads back to you. And you should know : they’re hungry."

On cue, the wall of corpses made a horrible sound at the back of their throats that chilled Michael to the bone. The other side shrunk back. Michael could almost hear them tremble in their armor.

There was a loud metallic noise as hundreds of weapons were suddenly dropped. The soldiers were giving up before their King even gave the order.

"Jack," called Geoff, and Jack ran to him -just in time to grab Ryan as the Mage's legs crumpled under him. With him went down the wall of corpses.

An order from Geoff and the soldiers of Abuter shook themselves out of their stupor and charged at the enemy, forcing them even further back, rounding them up like cattle. Michael only wanted to run to Ryan’s side and make sure he was okay but his sense of duty made him stay with his soldiers.

Him and Gavin were the ones to find King Coal and take him prisoner.

The war was won after one battle.

**********

Ryan opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling, heavy blankets over him and pillows under his head. Soft voices reached him.

He blinked. He could feel a headache building up behind his blurry eyes.

"Oh, he’s up!" said Gavin’s voice.

The mattress dipped as the lad climbed on the bed and Ryan was now looking up at a bright smile. A long cut on Gavin’s cheek made him frown.

"That’s gonna scar," he said, his voice scratchy and growling.

He was helped into sitting up by Michael, who had one arm in a sling.

"Is that gonna scar?" asked Ryan before his burning throat sent him in a coughing fit.

Michael huffed and patted his back. "I'm good, it's just a scratch. No need to choke over it."

Ray pressed a glass of water into Ryan's hands. The fresh liquid gave him life again, softened the pounding in his head and cleared his thoughts. He looked at his Kings.

If the lads all looked extremely happy and relieved, Geoff and Jack looked more reserved, arms crossed on their chest as they stood at the foot of the bed.

"What happened?" asked Ryan.

"You collapsed is what happened," said Geoff.

"No… I remember that. I mean, after."

"We won," said Michael. "Coal abdicated. He’s rotting in our dungeon right now."

"That’s thanks to you," said Ray.

The pride in his voice made Ryan blush slightly.

Jack frowned. “Ryan. You fled the castle, rode to the battlefield with barely enough food on you to survive until your reached the South, and then proceeded to—”

"To own everyone’s ass," interrupted Michael. "Come on Jack, he was awesome. Admit it!"

Jack’s mouth twisted. “Yes. It was awesome. Dangerous, but fucking incredible. You never told us you could do those things!”

"I told you about the corpses…"

"Didn’t tell us you could fucking do it. You could have slipped us a word before we left, you know. Something like "I’m a maniac and I know how to turn birds into ghosts"."

Ryan winced. “I didn’t think I was ready yet… but then I tried to look into the future and all I saw was a battle and blood...”

"You can see the future?" asked Gavin, interested.

"Not easily, and it's not always reliable. But I couldn't risk it and leave you alone, could I? Even if I wasn't entirely ready I thought I could still help."

"You were obviously ready," said Michael with enthusiasm. "How did you do all these things?"

"I huh... read about it, mainly. You know, these big books aren't just there to be pretty."

Jack chuckled. "Just warn a man before you resurrect the dead, next time."

"I’d rather not see a next time," said Ryan, barely managing to suppress a shudder. "It’s not… it’s not good magic. It’s not pleasant to do."

"I told you, you should stick to roses," said Ray.

Ryan laughed. He shook his hand and offered yet another flower to Ray who took it and wedged it behind his ear.

"What’s going to happen to the Southern Kingdom now?" asked Ryan.

"Burnie put a regent on the throne," said Geoff. "Now everyone knows what you can do, I haven’t heard a single voice protesting magic. I think things are going to calm down."

"I don’t want people to fear magic" said Ryan with a grimace. "It won’t do anything good in the long run."

"Well, we’ll start with fear first so people calm the fuck down. We’ll think about something else later. Maybe you could go on a trip or something, showing people the good you can do…"

"I guess I could do that," agreed Ryan. He closed his eyes, fatigue catching up on him.

"Okay, time to sleep," said Geoff.

The five kings lay on the bed. They snuggled close, arms and legs thrown over Ryan until they formed a human blanket. Fingers entwined with Ray’s, Ryan fell asleep feeling safe and -mostly- sound.

********************************************************************************

-two years later-

  
In the middle of a packed arena stood ten men and women dressed in matching red clothes. They were all still and silent, frozen in a similar pose.

When the music began, they started to dance.

Their limbs swept in the air to the rhythm of carefully planned moves, feet so light on the floor they looked like they were floating. Jewels jingled on their wrists and ankles. And magic appeared.

With each new move light splashed in the arena. Fireworks of pure colors spread across the spectators’ heads, flying like they had a mind of their own. A click of the dancers’ fingers, and it rained glowing dust from the sky. A tap of their feet and flowers and grass sprung out of the barren earth. A clap of their hands and flames of every color drifted through the crowd without burning anything.

The dance enthralled and marvelled, and when it stopped, the ten dancers locked in their final stance, the applause was deafening.

The mages bowed under the shouts and cries for an encore and scattered away. Ryan barely made two steps out of the arena when he was buried under five men who jumped at him.

"That was awesome!" said Gavin, hopping around.

"Yeah!" approved Michael. "You were right to hide the rehearsals from us, that was fucking great."

Geoff patted his back. “We find mages still alive and the first thing you do with them is a dance routine. You might be the most laid back person I know.”

"People need to see magic is a power for good," said Ryan with a smile.

"Yep. You definitely showed that. People are all looking at you with admiration. I’m almost jealous."

They walked back to the castle. Everyone they met on their way stopped Ryan to either congratulate him or ask him about magic, children followed him like puppies, waiting to see if anything new was going to fly out of him.

In their private rooms, the other kings helped Ryan clean up and get into more official clothes. He had a speech on magic to give tonight before several kings from all the neighboring kingdoms, he had to look perfect.

Ray spent an inordinate amount of time brushing his hair.

"I think that’s enough, Ray…"

"Nope. I want that fucking strand of hair to go where I want it to go. Don’t move!" he scolded Ryan.

Gavin suddenly put an open book, which he had snatched from Ryan's bedside table, in front of the Mage's nose.

"Ryan, I don't understand that sentence."

"Which one?" asked Ryan, squinting at the foreign letters.

"That one about the dragons. Is this really saying they're all 'fried'?"

"No, you idiot. It's saying they've all died. It's the chapter about the death of the last dragon."

"OOoooh."

Michael started laughing. "Magic-language lessons aren't going so well, huh?"

"Hey, I'm trying. One day I'll be able to fry a dragon and then we'll see who's laughing..."

When he was finally ready, Ryan looked at himself in the mirror. Heavy red cloak on his shoulders (and hair now looking perfect), he smiled timidly at his own reflection.

"Here," said Geoff, "the final touch."

The thin silver crown in his hand shone in the light as he carefully set in on Ryan's head.

"That’s gonna mess up my work," mumbled Ray.

"A true king doesn’t have any bad hair day," laughed Michael. "He looks great. Everyone’s gonna be jealous of us."

They took him by the hand and pulled him towards the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right, so this was late for... stupid reasons. But here it is! I hope the ending is satisfying. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who commented and kudosed or just read this fic. I love you guys.
> 
> In case anyone is curious, the title comes from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6OO3muLGys) by Mylène Farmer, which talks about being insecure and hurt, but trying to deal with life and find a way to be happy again... I felt like it fit this story.
> 
> bye everybody~


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